


The Suckers

by moontourist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Antagonistic Fluff, Autumn as fuck, Bad Jokes, Banter, Bullshit representation of witches and magic, Cat Castiel, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hair of the dog Halloween Hangover Cure, Halloween, Horror movie references, M/M, Openly Bisexual Dean, Pranks, Witch Castiel, as far as the eye can see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4967053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moontourist/pseuds/moontourist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a revenge prank gone too far, Michael and Lucifer trap Castiel while transformed and send him off to a neighboring town. Castiel, unable to use magic and in need of sustenance, has to rely on his wits to charm two handsome suckers into taking care of him until he can figure out how to get back home.  However, one of the brothers proves to be more difficult in charming than the other. Yelling, revenge plotting, and shenanigans ensue.</p><p>Now with Time Stampy goodness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PSL

**Author's Note:**

> I owe this entire fic to my dear friend, [ Trashland](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Daderain/pseuds/Trashland), who gifted me this prompt when I complained about wanting to write something for Halloween but couldn't think of anything. What set out to be the world's corniest PSL fic somehow ended up being my love letter to my favorite horror films. So if you think it's a reference chances are it is. And if not I'll take the credit anyways.  
> Enjoy!

If Castiel had been paying attention to the storefronts he was trotting past, he would have seen pumpkins and gourds sitting on top of bales of hay, bats and streamers hanging from windows, and the occasional monster or skeleton pulling funny faces taped up to doorways. He would have felt the sunlight being filtered through leaves (leaves, it should be added, that were presenting their warmest and most decadent colors), heard the crunch of foliage underneath, and appreciated that distinct tinge colder weather brought to the smell of the air.

However, the autumnal display around Castiel went unnoticed as he was instead intent on finding someone to help appease the biting hunger that had crept in. His earlier attempts at procuring food had been hindered by more than one store employee, so Castiel had decided the next best plan of attack was to sucker some kind hearted person into feeding him, and feeding him real food at that. It was either con or go through the torment of fending for himself again, and as Castiel had quickly realized, doing so without magic was cumbersome at best.

Cas considered buttering up a group of teenagers clad mostly in black but ultimately decided against seeking their help as the volume of their conversation grew far too loud. Despite their harmless energy, it quickly became clear to Castiel that an actual banshee choir was more soothing than their collective squawking. One of the girls he hadn’t noticed before even called out to him as he darted past. She was wearing black and white striped stockings and a pointy hat which definitely sealed Castiel’s decision. Loud teenagers were one thing, but ones posing as such an inane characterization of witches were an absolute deal breaker, so he quickened his pace away from the group and kept searching.

A gust of wind picked up and for the first time that day Castiel was grateful for his long and thick black fur. Another wave of anger settled in the pit of his stomach. He had spent a large amount of time trying to get the dull, blue collar off, and when he finally conceded that wasn’t going to happen, he had spent an even larger amount of time plotting his revenge against his brothers, Michael and Lucifer, while simultaneously becoming more and more indignant that one of his other siblings hadn’t saved him yet. On one hand he felt he may have had it coming: he had replaced their shampoos and body wash with a home brew that basically equated to Nair, leaving both of them almost entirely hairless for the better part of the day, but collaring him while he was transformed and then zapping him to god knows where was more than necessary repayment. The collar Michael and Lucifer had locked around him looked normal, but bits of iron were intricately woven into the fibers, binding Castiel’s magic, and it was seemingly impossible for him to remove.

Skirting past a man on a bike and rounding a corner, Castiel huffed when he saw a coffee shop’s chalkboard easel advertising a thousand and one different ways to imbibe pumpkin spice complete with the image of witches riding on brooms. Nobody had ever ridden on brooms in the history of witchcraft ( _well…_ ) and not for the first time he marveled at humanity’s fondness for believing the stupidest things. The sight just a bit beyond that misinformed sign, however, brought an unparalleled joy to Castiel’s heart. Exiting the coffee shop were two men, one with hair much longer than the other, holding bags of food and a cup each. They didn’t appear to be in a hurry, conversed at an adequate volume while wearing benign flannel, and seemed kind enough. Castiel smiled to himself as he geared up, trying to look his most adorable and yet most pathetic. As he approached his mark, he began to suspect that he just might have found what he’d been looking for: namely, the suckers.

Sam stepped out into the sharp autumn air, dirty chai in hand, took a deep breath, and smiled. He had successfully gotten his brother out without the bait of a bar, he and his fiancé were about to close on a house, and perhaps best of all, fall had finally wrapped itself around Lawrence. He felt his brother step up beside him, mouth already full of the mini pumpkin pie he had just bought, evident by the loud smacking he heard coming from his side.

“Looks like it’s gonna rain, Samantha,” Dean chimed in, voice slightly muffled by the pastry stuffed in his cheeks.

Sam sent his older brother his patented bitch face and took a giant sip of his latte just to spite Dean, who in turn pulled a face and muttered about girly drinks. Sam let the comment roll right off him and instead clapped his brother on the back. With a smile Sam told Dean he didn’t know what he was missing out on and was about to continue to his brother’s car when he was quickly jolted by something rubbing up against his leg.

“Holy crap!” Sam exclaimed as he looked down to see a giant, black cat nudge his leg.

“Wha- holy shit!” Dean pointed at nearly the same time, “that fucking thing is huge!”

Sam, balancing his drink and snacks in the same hand, knelt down to offer his hand to the cat, who, to his surprise, went straight forward to nuzzle the offered palm. “Aren’t you a handsome fellow?”

Normally Castiel would have been appalled at both the words and action, but desperate times had indeed called for desperate measures, so instead of swiping at the man or running away from the patronizing humans, Castiel, with an acknowledging bump to Sam’s hand, moved on to the shorter man in hopes of buttering him up as well. However, as soon as Castiel got near one of the man’s bowed legs he jerked back.

“Whoa there, buddy,” Dean said, startled.

“Scared of the cat, Dean?”

Dean shot a look to his brother and then moved his eyes back to the feline. “No, _Sam_ , I am not scared of this goddamn..” Dean paused, gesturing at the cat, “this goddamn street lion.”

“Street lion?” Sam interrupted, eyebrow cocked as he looked up at Dean.

“You have no idea where that thing has been. Petting it is downright unsanitary.”

Castiel looked up at Dean and glared at the insinuation. With a swish of his tail, he turned away from Dean and meandered back to the nicer one.

“Hey there, little guy,” Sam cooed, letting the cat sniff his hand again before running it down the back. “He’s clearly someone’s pet, Dean. I mean, he’s got a collar and looks well taken care of.”

“And you know it’s a he?”

Sam looked up at his brother again with a slight smile on his face, placed his drinks and pastry down before swooping the cat up and bringing him face to face with this brother. “His name’s on the collar.” Sam answered back.

The two looked at each other, Dean feeling as if he were being summed up by the giant, deep blue eyes staring back at him. He decided he didn’t like them, too far apart and just… weird. Intense, even. Castiel, admittedly, had spent longer than needed looking at Dean’s face, admiring it in spite of himself, before turning back to look at the one holding him.

“See,” Sam pointed to Cas’ collar, “nametag.”

Dean, leaning in closer while popping the last of his mini pie into his mouth, responded, “what the hell kinda name is that?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, flipping the tag over to see if there was a telephone number printed on the back. Knowing Sam wouldn’t find what he was looking for, and realizing his situation was still precariously perched, Castiel swallowed down the rest of his pride and went in for the kill. A pitiful mew left his mouth as he went in to nuzzle the man’s chest and started to purr.

Sam smiled and scratched Castiel’s head. “Aw, Dean, he likes me!”

“Yeah, that’s freaking great, Sammy. You’re king of the street rats. Now put him down and let’s go before that storm comes in.”

Castiel tensed, afraid that all this humiliating work was about to go unrewarded. He began hoping that maybe he could steal the pastry the tall one had left on the ground at very least…

“Dean!” Sam reprimanded, throwing his brother yet another bitch face. “We can’t just leave him here. Somebody’s obviously looking for him.”

Castiel relaxed at the words, albeit still saddened at their apparent lack of truth. He still hadn’t stopped hoping Anna or Gabriel would come save him from this degrading predicament.

Dean interrupted Castiel’s forlorn thoughts, “That’s exactly why we can and should leave him here. Somebody’s obviously gonna come looking for him.”

Castiel turned his head and squinted at the human. Perhaps he had misread the man’s bright aura.

Dean made a face at the cat and then looked back up at his brother when he shot back, “Really,  
Dean? Someone’s gonna come back to a coffee shop looking for their cat?”

“It could _be_ the coffee shop’s?” Dean supplied, realizing he was losing ground but not ready to fold.

Sam looked at him as if he had just drooled on himself. “Dean,” Sam replied, approaching the subject from a different angle, “Are you really okay with leaving this sweet, little guy alone? In the rain? Possibly to starve to death?” Sam recognized he was laying it on thick, but he also knew Dean, and Dean wouldn’t let something go hungry if he could help.

Dean pursed his lips, started to say something, then abruptly stopped, turned around, stopped again, looked back at his brother holding the damn cat and asked, “know what kinda monster that is?”

Sam scoffed and shook a strand of hair out of his face. “Maine Coon, I think.”

Dean turned back around and walked into the shop. Sam went back to running his fingers through Castiel’s mane, and Cas continued purring, knowing food was quite possibly minutes away if he could just keep up the con a bit longer. Sam could hear his brother yelling about a giant lost cat until stomping back out, eyebrows drawn but looking resigned enough.

“You know you have to put up lost cat signs, Samantha.” Dean said, emphasizing his annoyance by feminizing Sam’s name, something Castiel found completely repulsive.

“I know,” Sam said, smiling wide.

“You can’t keep him,” Dean continued, “he’s not yours.”

“Dean,” Sam replied, “look, I know. I just wanna help him find his way home.”

Castiel jerked his head back towards Sam, touched at the kindness and accidental accuracy.

“Fine.” Dean replied sourly, eyeing the cat for the umpteenth time.

Castiel, who had been trying not to get his hopes up too high, renewed his purring at the good news and rubbed his whiskers against Sam again.

Dean stepped up to his brother again, still pouting. “I don’t know how you’re gonna get him home.” Dean shot at his brother, watching him and the cat and not liking the way they seemed to have already teamed up.  He absolutely did not want to spend the next few days dealing with this shit. Hopefully the owners would see the fliers and contact them right away. He made a mental note to get his brother on flyer duty as soon as they got situated.

“Dean.” Sam reprimanded him with a look.

“I’m serious, Sammy. He is not getting in Baby. I am not gonna have some mangy cat turning my car into a freaking flea motel.”

Castiel bristled at the insult but quickly tamped it down, reminding himself he wasn’t supposed to know English.

“He doesn’t have fleas, Dean,” Sam countered with exasperation.

“He’s gonna scratch up the upholstery.”

“Dean.”

“I mean it, dude, call Jess and get her to pick you two up.”

“Dean,” Sam replied, changing tactics and giving Dean his best puppy eyes.

Dean threw back his head in annoyance and dramatically sighed, “Fine. But if he pees you’re cleaning it up.”

Sam grinned and hoisted the cat up to his other shoulder. He was pretty strong, but the cat was huge. Quickly he responded to his brother, “Okay, okay!”

“And he’s your responsibility. Meaning that your lawyer professor ass is responsible for any damage hereby done to the car.”

“Got it.”

“I mean it, Sam! You want the cat, your responsibility! That includes cleaning up the crap,” Cas couldn’t help but glare at the man again, “making the fliers as soon as we get home, feeding him,” Cas warmed at the mere thought of food, “making sure he doesn’t do… whatever the hell it is that cats do. Just… all of it. It’s on you.”

“Yeah, Dean, I got it,” Sam placated as he turned around, pleased that he had talked his brother into getting a cat. Sam hoped, admittedly selfishly, that nobody was going to come looking for him. The Maine Coon was clearly super friendly, seemingly well-behaved, and beautiful, plus he and Jess had wanted to get a pet for a while now.

Perhaps a bit more cocky than he should have been, Sam triumphantly called back to his brother, “Hey, be a pal and grab the stuff I left on the ground?”

Mimicking his brother, Dean looked back just in time to see the black cat’s head pop up over his brother’s shoulder. He could have sworn the cat was looking at him as if he had just won a bet. In fact, the cat looked downright smug, and not for the first time Dean scowled at him. As Dean swiped Sam’s stuff from off the ground, he felt a fat, cold raindrop hit the back of his neck and grimaced at the sky. Reflecting on his bad luck, Dean was even more annoyed at the prospect of having a wet, pissy, freaking panther on their hands. Maybe he would get scared and run off before they got him inside.  The sooner this stupid, weird-eyed cat was out of his life, the better.  


	2. Screw Your Pass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though this fic is dedicated to my lovely friend and beta, [Trashland](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Daderain/pseuds/Trashland), she will have to share a little because I hereby dedicate this chapter to the belated Wes Craven, the first person to ever make me stay up all night, clutching a flashlight, too afraid to fall asleep. I was nine. RIP, you magnificent bastard.

The storm had hit a few minutes after getting in the Impala, but the ride had gone smoothly, and Sam had been able to bring the cat in without anything more than a pitiful meow. And Castiel, miserable as he was, had not neglected in memorizing the turns on the drive and committing the address of his new found benefactors, 237 Overlook Dr, to memory. Once inside the brothers had argued over what to feed him, how to make a temporary litter box, and if the cat should be restricted to a bathroom. Sam had won on just about every count, but Dean reminded him the cat was his responsibility, so Sam had to go back out in the rain and get supplies for their new addition. He left his brother with a bitchy wave goodbye, and Dean in turn flipped him off.

As soon as the three were inside and a plate of deli turkey was placed in front of Castiel, he quit listening to the two’s bickering. Filled to the brim with joy, Castiel had never in his life found lunchmeat so precious and felt no shame licking the plate free of debris. Cas, sated and quickly becoming bored, set off to explore his temporary shelter. Leaving the kitchen and spying the back of Dean’s head on the couch, watching something Cas undoubtedly could not care less about, he rounded the corner to the right and headed into a hallway.

As he was poking around Castiel decided he may as well wait the weather out here, get another meal or two under his belt, as well as a full night’s rest, before leaving and finding a way back home the next day. He figured if he was lucky he’d be able to find some trustworthy, supernatural kin and procure help from them. Castiel could easily communicate via writing once he found someone friendly to his kind, but he certainly wasn’t going to alert these two to his actual status. Humans didn’t have a good track record of reacting kindly to the supernatural, and Castiel, averse to playing ambassador between the two communities normally, certainly didn’t feel like reaching out to the humans now without any ability to protect himself if they reacted poorly to his supernatural status.

Finding all of the doors save the bathroom’s closed, and in desperate need of distraction from the sad thoughts of home and helplessness threatening to overwhelm him, Castiel turned around and headed back into the living room. He figured he could continue avoiding the grumpy (albeit beautiful) man on the couch and instead scan the bookshelves in case they might have something he’d want to peruse later on if he found some alone time. He didn’t see Dean on the couch but heard noise in the kitchen, so assuming he was safe to browse, Cas ambled up to one of the shorter cases but was stopped by the profound pain of a worker’s boot on his tail. Castiel let out a shrill yowl and turned around to see Dean jumping back, sandwich simultaneously being thrown off his plate as he shouted fuck. Cas hissed involuntarily at the human and darted up a taller bookcase just a few feet away.

“Shit,” he heard Dean say to himself as he bent down to pick up the sandwich. “Goddamnit,” he continued as he wiped his hands on his jeans and scanned the room for Cas. “Cat?” he called out. Castiel, who had already scrambled up the bookcase, looked down at him and squinted. “Cat?” he called out again, and then, spotting him, Dean walked over to the books and looked up at him. “Hey, look, cat, I’m sorry,” he said and thinking the cat might feel more comfortable if he could scent Dean (who was clearly demonstrating he’d never had a cat before), held his hand up as some kind of peace offering.  Voluntarily this time, Castiel hissed and swiped at his palm in warning. He knew he was being childish, but the day had finally overwhelmed him. He was lost and homesick, and more than that, Cas was scared: he was stranded with two strangers whom he couldn’t even communicate with out of fear that they would in turn panic and end up burning him alive or some other ghastly thing humans were so fond of doing.  So the hurt tail, a tail he shouldn’t even have right now, had been the breaking point, and on top of all those underlying emotions, Cas was so angry, so frustrated with this entire horrible day. He just wanted to be left alone and to not have some idiotic man shoving his giant hand into his face. 

“Fine,” Dean snapped, jerking his hand back and cutting through Castiel’s inner montage of emotions. “That’s fine. You wanna sit up in that tower like a freaking princess, be my guest.” Dean turned around and, grabbing the plate with the spoiled sandwich, headed back into the kitchen. Castiel glared at the man as he left the room, then turned his attention back on himself and, resting his head on his front paws, settled down on the bookcase and went back to planning his escape and subsequent plans for surviving and finding help. But he also couldn’t help planning to urinate on Dean’s boots before he left as a little thank you for all the kindness he’d shown him. If he couldn’t hex the man, Cas could at least ruin his day a little.

Castiel watched Dean as he reentered the room, easily projecting most of the turmoil he was feeling onto him, and Dean, feeling the cat’s eyes on him, looked up and immediately pulled a bewildered face at the cat. He felt as if the cat was actually glaring at him. Slightly unnerved, Dean plopped back down on the couch and resumed watching the TV. Quickly enough though Dean forgot about his current nuisance and, realizing that Dr. Wang was about to tell off the sexy but absent-minded new intern, took another bite of his second sandwich before setting it down and nodded with approval.

Castiel watched in disgust as Dean chewed with his mouth open and then actually spat food out while laughing at whatever absurd program was on the television; he could hear some woman yelling at another but didn’t even bother glancing at the screen. Dean was absolutely appalling, but when Castiel was sure he’d gotten reinvested in the show and had momentarily forgotten about his sandwich, he decided, mainly out of spite, to sneak down the shelves and nab himself another treat. Cas made a well placed leap and landed on the coffee table, right in front of his target. Stunned at the noise, Dean looked down in time to see Castiel knock off the top slice of bread and take off with the lunchmeat.

“You _sonofabitch_!” Dean yelled, quickly jumping up and trying to catch up to Cas as he scampered back up the shelves, turkey slice hanging out of his mouth. Castiel, gloating from his perch, dropped the piece of meat unto the shelf but immediately regretted his decision as he realized just how filthy the top of the case was. Not letting this drawback spoil his overall win, however, Castiel looked back at Dean, who had continued calling him a thief and an asshole, and, after making eye contact, bent down and licked the turkey slice with deliberate relish. Dean looked as if he was about to strangle the feline and, for his part, Castiel had stopped licking his prize and was instead flattening his ears and angrily swishing his tail, and this was how Sam found them when he walked in the room.

“Uhh…” Sam led off with a small, bewildered laugh while taking off his jacket. “Got the cat stuff?”

Dean spun around to face his brother, looking about as pissed as he felt. “Sammy,” Dean said with as much authority as he could muster, pointing to the cat. “You need to hurry up and get this fuzzball back to his home on Asshole Island.”

“Feline trouble, Dean?”

Dean just shook his head and walked back to his plate, informing his brother that _his_ cat might leave a half eaten slice of stolen turkey on the bookshelf, and that it was _his_ responsibility to clean it. Sam just waved him off and brought the bags into the kitchen.

“Hey, Dean?” Sam called out from the other room.

“Whaddya want?” Dean replied as he was walked into the kitchen, second failed sandwich in hand which he looked at forlornly as he threw it away.

“Don’t you want to see what I got?” Sam said with one of his patented smirks.

Dean, anticipating that whatever Sam had bought was bound to be irritating, put on his best I am not amused with you face and opened one of the S-Mart canvas bags his brother had taken to buying. “Really, Sam? Cat toys already? Are you even trying to reunite Gollum back with his precious?”

“Yeah, but they’re shaped like little jack-o-lanterns, Dean,” Sam replied back, mouth already turned back into a smirk before frowning and continuing, “wait, is Castiel Gollum or the precious?”

“Well he sure as shit ain’t precious,” and as an afterthought Dean added, “but he definitely belongs in Mordor.”

Sam laughed and motioned Dean to continue on. Dean pulled out a rectangular package and read out loud, “Wes’ Cat Snacks, _for when your pet’s got that cravin’_. Tuna flavor. Okay.”

“They’re good for dental hygiene. “

“Right.” Dean replied skeptically, lifting up the box of kitty litter next. “Fall Frolic?” Dean replied, dropping it back down as if it had personally offended him. He looked at his brother on the other side of the counter. “Are you friggin’ kidding me with this shit?”

Sam laughed again, “Ah, you’ll love it, Dean. It’ll smell just like that coffee shop we were in earlier.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean responded. He eyed the cat food, checking just in case his brother had truly lost his mind and was trying to feed the poor bastard some kind of pumpkin spiced spooktacular hippie harvest crap and felt reassured that it was just a normal bag, not one pumpkin to be found on it. He may not like the cat, but he didn’t condone animal cruelty either.

Sam walked around the counter and grabbed the litter, intending to fill the box he had bought along with it so the cat could take care of his business, but Dean stopped him before exiting. “Hey, Sammy, wanna get pizza for the movie later tonight?”

Sam nodded, “Romero or Argento’s?”

“I dunno, was thinking Pizza by Romero. It’s bigger,” Dean said with a head tilt and a smile, trying to entice his brother.

“Yeah, but don’t you think Argento’s Pizza Café is a bit more authentic?”

Dean’s expression soured as his lip curled and mimicked Sam’s words then replied, “Authentic? Who gives a shit about authentic. It’s pizza. America practically invented that shit.”

“Dean, toppings on flatbreads go back to the Neolithic era.”

Dean’s face bunched up in disgust as he shook his head, unable to believe he was related to the man in front of him. “Alright, alright. God, you are like a walking encyclopedia of uselessness. I don’t give a shit. Get whatever one you want, as long as mine has more meat than a New York deli I’m fine. I mean I wanna be able to rub that slice up against a wall and see through it.”

It was Sam’s turn to be disgusted, “how have you not had a triple bypass already?”

Dean smiled as he walked over to the fridge to grab a beer. Not saying a word but clapping his brother on the back, Dean returned to the living room, giving Castiel, who had been silently observing the two from near the doorway, a wide berth on his way to the couch.

=^.^=   =^.^=   =^.^=

Castiel had noticed the litter box in the corner of the bathroom (and noted that it did in fact smell absolutely atrocious) but opted for the toilet instead and with a well aimed swipe he was even able to flush for them. Briefly he wondered if that was too adept but ultimately would rather they be amazed at his keen ability to work a simple handle rather than take care of his waste. Sam had put out a tiny bowl of food and water earlier, but Castiel was still sated from his (and Dean’s he recounted with glee) turkey, so he didn’t need to worry about how to get around eating that abomination for the time being. However, as soon as Cas rounded the corner the delicious smell of pizza already got him planning out his next meal. He was pretty sure that if he played his cards right he could just get Sam to give him a slice instead of having to sneak one. However, if the opportunity arose to steal something else from Dean, Cas would gladly take it.

The boys were spread out on the couch, legs propped up on the coffee table with the unopened pizza between them. Castiel jumped up onto the arm rest closest to Sam and, naturally, farthest from Dean. Sam absentmindedly patted him on the head before turning his full attention back to his brother.

“Know what you wanna watch yet?”

 “ _Hell Hazers_.”

“ _Hell Hazers_ ,” Sam responded at the same time. “God,” he chided, “you are so predictable.”

“What?” Dean responded, slightly miffed. “It’s a classic. Plus,” he added with his eyebrows raised and a smile, “you got my girl, Tara Benchley.”

Sam scoffed and replied, “You know, Dean, you could try something different for once.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed, “You wanna see if _Hell Hazers II_ is on Netflix?” Dean looked up and added after a beat, “I know they had _Cornfield Massacre_ last time I checked…”

Castiel looked back and forth between the two men, completely lost.

Sam’s mouth fell open as he stared off, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief. “Something you haven’t seen before, Dean. You know, something with a bit more plot, a bit more… finesse?”

“Oh, so something with a bit more _je ne sais_ bitch?”

“ _God_ , you are such a jerk.”

“Hey, man, classics are classics for a reason.”

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t say _Monster Truck IV_ is a classic.”

“ _Monster Truck IV_? Who said anything about _Monster Truck IV_? Now _Monster Trucks I_ and _III_? Those are classics. The special effects alone on _Mon_ -“

“Dean!” Sam interrupted, exasperated. “I get it, you like it, the effects were good. I’m not saying they weren’t. All I’m saying is you could try watching something else. You know, Jess lent you _Trick ‘r Treat_ weeks ago-“

“Okay, here we go. Why didn’t you just say so, Sammy?”

Sam scoffed, “Say what?”

“Why didn’t you just say that you wanted to watch the stupid kid movie your girlfriend wanted you to see?”

“Dean,” Sam started, “It’s not- I’ve seen it. And it’s not a stupid kid movie. She lent it to _you_. We both think you’ll really like it. It’s a really neat movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes, sighed a whatever, and got up to get a beer. When he came back Sam had already started working on a slice from his side, covered in vegetables, and was, no surprise to Dean, feeding the cat a slice of pepperoni that he’d probably stolen from Dean’s half. The cat conspicuously licked his lips as he watched Dean cross in front of the couch.

“You made those fliers yet?” Dean asked gruffly.

“Yeah, got ‘em printed off and was going to tape them up after the movie.”

Dean nodded and plopped back down, hand reaching out for a slice as well. “Well, you gonna put in your movie or what?”

Sam knew his brother well enough to know that this was as good a go ahead as he would get, so he got up and put the DVD in. After hitting the light switch, the two men settled into the couch. The black and white instructional video that began to play earned a doubtful look from Dean, but soon enough he was drawn in, laughing at all the right parts and yelling at the people on screen. He became particularly excited at what he referred to as the sex coven, but none of this fazed Castiel as his attention drifted between the screen and the two men, debating on the nature of their relationship, why this program was so enthralling for them, wondering how they managed without magic, and occasionally getting fed bits of pizza by Sam, who seemed to enjoy being Castiel’s favorite.

During the credits Cas looked over to Dean who had a beer tilt to his lips and half a slice resting on his belly. Castiel thought that a hex wouldn’t actually be needed with this one; just taking away food for the day would be torture enough. Though he did note that Dean’s shirt had ridden up and wasn’t above appreciating the little bit of soft stomach peaking out. Sure he all but hated the man, but that didn’t stop him from admiring his form.

“That was awesome!” Dean praised.

“See! I knew you’d like it!”

“Yeah, man, you were right. Tell Jess I said thanks.”

Sam hummed his confirmation, getting up and turning the lights back on. Dean looked up at him from the couch. “Got time for round two?”

“Nah, I told Jess I’d be over there by nine, and I still gotta put up those fliers.”

“Oh, yeah, well…good.”

Sam just smirked and then asked, “What time do you gotta be at work tomorrow?”

“I think Bobby wants me in at 7:30, but I gotta double check.”

“Alright well, see you tomorrow night?”

Dean smiled at his brother, “Yeah.”

Sam grabbed the fliers and tape off the side table and was about to head out when he turned around and, facing his brother, instructed, “Don’t stay up late watching scary movies and then not be able to fall asleep.”

Dean made a face, truly offended, and denied that he’d even once ever been scared during a movie.

“Oh, yeah? Then what about _Saw III_?”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Those don’t count; those aren’t even movies! That is just fucked up torture porn. There are rules, Sam, rules! Just like _Trick ‘r Treat_ said. You follow the rules, you get out alive! Those piece of crap movies don’t follow any rules; they’re just inescapable, hellish nightmares until you die!”

Not for the first time that night Sam scoffed. “Yeah, Dean. Totally unaffected by movies. I can definitely see that.”

Dean scrunched up his face and jerked his head to the door, “Just leave already.”

Sam shook his head and smiled while grabbing his jacket form the closet near the door.

 “Hey, Sam?” Dean called after him from the couch

“Yeah?” he replied, walking back into the living room.

“I think I know what I’m gonna be for Halloween.”

“Oh?” Sam asked, playing along, already knowing what was coming next.

“Yeah, was thinking I could dress up as the Crypt Keeper,” and after a brief pause Dean made a mock dramatic face of disappointment and continued, “but, man, you _already_ got his hair.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he put his arms through his coat. “That’s too bad, Dean,” Sam responded as he buttoned up. “‘Cuz I was thinking I could be the Flukeman for Halloween, but you’ve already got his face.”

“Ohhh!” Dean called out, laughing along with his brother. “How dare you?”

Sam just smiled and replied with a wave, “Goodnight, jerk.”

“See ya later, bitch.”

Dean let out a burp and returned his attention back to the television. Castiel was sad to see the nice one leave, but he had already nabbed a slice of meaty pizza while the brothers were bantering back and forth and was eating it under the couch. He could count on his fingers (if he had had them) how many times he’d eaten pizza before this, but Cas was thoroughly enjoying the garlicky crust he was working on anyways. Dean watched the television for a bit longer, but before turning out the lights he reached up to the top of the bookshelf to check for any remnants left from Castiel’s stolen prize. Not finding anything, he cleared the coffee table of their dinner, checked the water bowl, and then went to bed. Castiel could feel the weariness of the day creeping in on him, so instead of looking through the books as he intended, Cas jumped up on the couch to fall asleep. He walked over to the spot Dean had been sitting on and, realizing it was still a bit warm from his body heat, made sure it was clear of any obnoxious food crumbs and then curled up in a tight ball. Despite the frustrations and anxiety of the day and being far from home, Cas managed to fall into a deep and steady sleep to the sound of the rain right away, head tucked into his paws and tail wrapped snuggly around his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, the next chapter won't be up as quickly because it's still in outline format. I'm workin' on it though, have faith!
> 
> Also, I fear some of you might be itchin' for more Destiel, but I realized while writing this that a. that's freaking hard to do when one of them's _a fucking cat_ and b. I really, really love the Winchester bros being happy and joking around, so hopefully that tides you over while I let Dean and Cas build their relationship. 
> 
> Stay spooky!


	3. You're Next

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, kiddies! This chapter was getting too big, so I had to break it up. :( But there's a pretty sweet accidentally-walk-in-on-you-during-an-inappropriate-time trope utilized about halfway through so... enjoy!  
> Beta'd be the only and only half-bat half-banshee 100% awesome nerd [ Trashland](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Daderain/pseuds/Trashland)

Castiel woke up alone, momentarily jarred by being in a strange place and then remembering, much to his severe dismay, his current predicament. He rose and, after stretching out his kinks, padded over to the kitchen. He approached his bowl with trepidation, dreading what he would find. Castiel was, of course, right to do so because only that horrific cat food was left out for him, and once his fears were confirmed, Cas had then marched straight to the refrigerator in hopes of being able to at least get more sliced turkey. However, his paws couldn’t get the right grip, and his arms weren’t strong enough to pry the door open. With one last look of longing and a defeated final attempt, Castiel gave up on the turkey but continued his search around the kitchen for something edible. A few apples were spotted on the kitchen counter, and after a few quick jumps he was happily gnawing away on one; however, he only ate about the third, finding it too mealy after his first few bites.

Castiel’s morning didn’t improve. Deciding that he’d rather take his chances procuring food outside the house rather than eat Iams, he walked over to the window above the kitchen sink and contemplated the logistics of getting it open. The window had the classic latch in the center of the top panel and then a handle at the bottom. If he could just get the glass pane open he could probably slice through the mesh enough to squeeze out and get on his way home – a thought that gave Castiel pause. He had no idea which way to go; he wasn’t even sure where he was. He assured himself, however, that being out there looking would yield better results than staying here, so with renewed motivation Cas got up on his hind feet and after a few swipes got the metal latch unlocked.

Castiel knew the next part was going to be trickier, but he hadn’t anticipated that he wouldn’t be able to open it even a little. He had thought that maybe if he could at least crack the window open he’d be able to wedge something else in there and use it like a lever to open it further, but the window wouldn’t budge. After being unable to lift it with is paws, Cas even tried gripping the handle with his mouth which proved just as fruitless. Frustrated, Cas jumped down and ran into the living room but found the same difficulties with the windows in there as well. Whether Cas in this form was just not strong enough or because they were sealed shut by paint, he just couldn’t get them opened.

Castiel sunk down on his haunches. He suddenly felt the room was too small, the décor too plain. With wide eyes he looked around, truly realizing that all was not right. He was trapped in a house, at the mercy of two humans and for the first time in his entire life absolutely powerless to help himself. With a bolt he shot up, heart pounding hard in his chest, and jumped back to the windows to try pulling them open once more. He wrapped both paws around the handle and jerked himself back, desperate and uncoordinated he tried again and again until he lost his balance and fell of the ledge. The feeling of bewilderment and burning terror faded into an arresting, aching sorrow in his chest as he tried to get his breathing back under control. The pain in his shoulder distracted him some, letting him focus on something physical rather than the dread. For hundreds of years Castiel had taken his magic for granted. He’d always had it, his family was old and powerful, and so many resources had just been readily available to him, and yet here he was, stuck in his cat form, trying to quell an anxiety attack, defeated by a window, dependent on two strangers. Strangers who couldn’t even possibly comprehend what Castiel had lived through or the things he was capable of doing. It would have been funny if it weren’t so pathetic.

Or perhaps, Cas thought, it was funny because it was so pathetic. Maybe he’d be able to jovially tell Bathazar and Gabriel about this horrendous adventure someday soon. He wouldn’t give Michael and Lucifer the satisfaction of knowing how miserable he was, but his friend and brother would be safe to tell. Castiel smiled to himself at the thought of them. It’d been a few decades since they’d gotten into trouble together. It would be good to see them again. Castiel thought he might even be able to get Anna in the mix, though she and Bathazar weren’t usually able to be in the same room for very long since breaking up. The last time they’d seen each other Bathazar had ended up a human sized toad for the better half of a night.

Castiel took in a deep breath, realizing he’d calmed down considerably with thoughts of home. He soothed himself further by reaffirming that he wouldn’t be here much longer. As soon as Sam or Dean came home he’d be ready; he’d run out the door, hide if necessary, then take back off to the center of town near where they found him and start searching for some safe base for the supernatural. The town seemed big enough; there should at least be a supply shop he could obtain help from.

Satisfied with the revised plan, Cas repeated it to himself for comfort as he slowly got up and trotted over to a bookcase. If he couldn’t leave now he may as well find some entertainment, either in reading or laughing at their collection which, to their credit, was sizable for two men in their late twenties. The shorter of the two bookshelves was stocked mainly with law and philosophy books, the latter of which Castiel would have had some interest in normally, but under his current circumstance he was looking for something fictitious and  pleasurable, so he ambled over to the taller bookcase and started perusing titles there. A few books caught his eye: there were a good deal of well-worn, midcentury American novels mixed in with classics and some things Cas just hadn’t heard of. The title of a book called _Paranoia or Magic?_ made him laugh; it was probably filled to the brim with ludicrous misinformation and garbage psychology, but next to it stood an old favorite and one quite fitting his current situation. Castiel pawed and nudged the first installment of _The Divine Comedy_ off its place on the shelf and onto the floor. He hadn’t read the work in English, so if anything Castiel figured he could spend the afternoon ignoring his vexations and at very least gripe about poor translations. He took sanctuary in the opening Canto and likened himself to the lost and forlorn narrator.

=^.^=

It was mid afternoon and Castiel had nearly finished _The Inferno_ when he heard a loud car pull up. Startled, Castiel jerked his head up, surprised time had gone by so swiftly. Hurridly he jumped back up to the bookshelf and nudged a few other books onto the floor, hoping that the pile would look more natural than just one.

No longer distracted by Dante, Castiel’s hunger had returned full force. He quickly decided that he would pester whomever came in first for food and then escape the next time the door was opened.  Dean walked in, smelling very strongly, and Castiel watched him toe off his boots before heading to the kitchen. Cas followed him, so miserable that he didn’t even mind that it was Dean and not Sam. He was fairly certain that playing the part of adorable pet wouldn’t work with him but being an absolute nuisance until the man clued in and caved probably would, so right away Cas began mewing loudly and pacing back and forth between Dean and the fridge he was standing in front of.

“Ah, Jesus!” Dean yelled, not expecting the first thing he heard to be a giant, wailing Maine Coon. “What the hell do you want?”

Cas looked up at him and mewed and then rubbed his head against the door. He looked back at Dean expectantly, who had stopped what he was doing, hand paused on the refrigerator handle, and was contemplating the cat.

“You hungry?” he asked, “how could you possibly be hungry? You had food in your bowl this mor…” Dean trailed off, eyes spotting the cat dish. He walked over to it looked down, annoyed. “What the hell, cat?” he gestured to the feline and then back to the full bowl. “Too stupid to feed yourself?”

Instantly Castiel felt the familiar urge to hiss at the man, but he stifled his reaction and just mewed again, loudly. For what felt like the millionth time Castiel vowed to get this man back as soon as he was himself again.

Dean, meanwhile, had picked up the bowl and then placed it in front of Cas. “See, cat?” he asked, while tapping the bowl, “Food. Eat.”

Cas could feel himself making a face before he could help himself. He looked up at the bowl, then made eye contact with Dean before going back to the fridge and nudging the door with his head.

“You spoiled son of a bitch,” Dean supplied, finally realizing what the cat wanted. While rolling his eyes he opened the fridge and took out the container of lunchmeat.

Dean took out a few slices and Castiel licked his lips in anticipation, eyes practically gleaming with joy, when Dean paused, turkey hanging from his fingertips.

“Cat,” Dean commanded to which Castiel corrected, _Cas_.

”I’ll give you this but on condition. This is a peace offering, you hear me? No more swiping at me with those claws. No hissing. No… no being you in general. Capiche?”

Castiel had no idea how he was supposed to react, so he just stayed still, eyes never leaving the dangling piece of turkey. Dean, for whatever reason satisfied that an arrangement had been met, placed a few slices of turkey on top of the dry cat food and turned back around, placing a slice in his own mouth as well. He took a few gulps directly from the milk carton and then left the kitchen. Castiel heard a door open but couldn’t care less, too busy clearing his lunchmeat of any bits of cat food before gulping it down.

Hunger not completely abated but definitely better than before, Castiel trotted into the living room, half heartedly wondering where Dean went. Now that he was capable of focusing on something besides food, he recalled Dean had come home smelling fairly atrocious: a mix of grease and unshowered human. Not spying Dean sprawled out on his usual perch but not hearing the shower either, Cas concluded that Dean was in his room but hoped he would be remedying his pungent state soon.

Dismissing thoughts of the man, Cas went to the bathroom and relieved himself. Treading lightly over the wooden floor back to the living room, Cas figured that if Dean had locked himself away in his room for a while, he might have time to get through the few remaining pages of his book, but on the way back he saw something far too tempting to pass: an open door. Castiel knew it led to Dean’s room, and he also knew that Dean was in there, and that he would not be pleased to find Castiel also in there; however, none of that hindered the witch from cautiously poking his head around the door.  He immediately noted Dean was propped up against his bed’s headboard, a computer in his lap and giant headphones over his ears. Cas appreciated his good fortune. Dean’s preoccupation was his gain, allowing him to explore the man’s room fairly uninhibited, so Castiel slipped in and started looking around.

His eyes wandered over a few posters and a guitar resting on a wall hanger. A record player was on one side of Dean’s bed and a side table with a lamp and a few framed photos on the other. Cas trotted past a dresser and slinked under the bed, certain he would find something of a dubious nature there, but after looking around he realized he was probably wrong. There wasn’t much to pry into: a dirty sock, a duffle bag, a few plastics tubs sealed with lids and a stack of car magazines were all he found. Cas noted with some surprise that Dean’s room wasn’t even dirty – a seeming contradiction from his coarse food mannerisms. Cas felt the bed shift above him and decided since snooping had been a bust he may as well surprise pounce on Dean. Castiel had never agreed to whatever moronic truce Dean had attempted to make with those meager slices, and besides he had no intention of hurting Dean; he merely wanted to have a little fun and maybe scare him into screaming.

Cas crawled up from the bed and climbed the back of the side table unnoticed. He took care to quietly pad around the pictures and moved to the edge of the table closest to Dean. Cas took a moment to observe what he was so intently watching. His head tilted as he took in the cartoon of two large-chested women, giggling in between rather… wet kisses. Cas rolled his eyes, not surprised that Dean would be watching something so ludicrous and base. He was about to turn away to face Dean and pounce when the next scene made his eyes go wide – the two women had started undressing each other. Castiel’s head moved back in uncertainty, and for the first time since entering the room he actually paid attention to Dean. Suddenly Cas couldn’t hear anything but Dean’s heavy breathing and then his mouth dropped in horror as realization took over. Unable to stop them, Cas’ eyes moved to Dean’s lap, who had himself in hand, boxer briefs pushed down. Nightmare confirmed, Castiel instantly started to back away from Dean. He tried to look away but it was as if his eyes were glued to the man’s lap, and Cas knocked over the lamp as he was backing up. It fell to the table with a loud crash and Dean immediately looked up and threw off his head phones, eyes wide with surprise and trying to locate what had startled him. Castiel, momentarily frozen in place, could do nothing but look at Dean, their faces a mere foot apart. The two made eye contact and then simultaneously started screaming, Castiel’s coming out more as a yowl and Dean’s far too high pitched to be considered masculine. Cas had jumped from the table to the floor and then quickly darted out the door before he knew what he was doing, and Dean  threw a pillow at his retreating form while yelling get a bell.

Mood completely ruined, Dean groaned and slammed his computer shut, burying his head in his hands. After a few minutes Dean got up to shower, vowing to make Sam either get the cat to his rightful home or to have it stay at Jess’ until they got their new place.

=^.^=

Castiel had stayed hidden under the couch for the next few hours, trying to mollify his deep embarrassment and in complete denial that he’d been a little more interested and a little less disturbed then he would have wished. He had heard Dean shower and then stomp around the living room, picking up the books Cas had knocked down and cursing under his breath. Then he began banging around in the kitchen, and Castiel cringed when he heard, “Nice job on the apple, asshole!” Eventually Dean went outside, and Cas poked his head out from the couch when he heard Sam come home. He promptly grabbed a few beers and went outside to join his brother, and the two stayed out there for a bit before coming back in, the delicious smell of grilled meat making a trail behind them. Castiel sniffed the air and started salivating. He was growing very hungry, and despite the earlier mortifying event between him and Dean, he still needed to eat, so Cas decided to wait a few minutes for the brothers to settle in before setting out to scavenge up his dinner.

To his dismay, Cas heard the brothers actually sitting down at the kitchen table, but whatever Dean had made smelled absolutely wonderful, so despite the dangers Castiel was lured into the kitchen, stopping at the entrance to strategize. He recognized the food the two were eating and though he hadn’t tried hamburgers before, Cas was more than willing to give them a go. Castiel squinted as he assessed the situation. Sam had his back to him, and luckily Dean was currently plowing into his burger, so Cas took the opportunity to quietly walk around the two and, as softly as he could, jumped up to the counter where he had smelled the plate of meat. Melted cheese lay on top of each patty, and after batting at a piece to separate it from the others, Cas gave it a quick sniff before tucking in.

If he could have, Cas probably would have groaned in delight. Though he found Dean to be an ill-mannered, vexing and insulting curmudgeon, he was capable of making some of the most beautiful food Castiel had ever put in his mouth, and he thought that if there were some way to arrange it, he would actually accept the truce Dean had offered if he were able to get more hamburgers out of it. He was about halfway through his meal when he heard the man of the hour yell.

“Goddamnit, Sam! Look at what your cat is doing!”

Cas looked up at the same time the other man looked over, and Cas saw him start to crack up. Sam raised his beer to Cas and called over, “Good, isn’t?”

Cas looked from him briefly over to Dean, who was scowling and had already started to stand up, so Castiel, fearing that his delicious supper was about to be stripped away from him, started doing his best to devour what was left of it. Dean stopped in front of Cas and looked on in mild disgust. The cat was really going to town on the burger, and Dean was a little taken aback with his enthusiasm.

“Sammy!” Dean yelled out, “Your cat is a goddamn cannibal!”

He heard Sam snort, so he turned around to face him.

“Really, Dean? A cannibal?”

Wide eyed, Dean just gestures back to the cat, who had one paw wrapped around the side of the burger closest to Dean and looked as if he was actually trying to inhale the meat.

Sam cocked and an eyebrow and with a smirk replied, “So, you’re making your hamburgers out of cat meat then?”

“Cat, cow – what’s a few consonants?!” Dean defended. “You remember that movie _Corpse Grinders_?”

“Dean, nobody remembers _Corpse Grinders_.”

Dean pointed at Sam and enthusiastically responded, “Exactly! Which is why cats like this giant son of a bitch over here are gonna end up taking over the food chain! And only guys like me are gonna try to stop it, but there won’t be enough of us, and it’ll be too late for us all!” Dean melodramatically threw his arms up before looking back at Sam with a smile.

Sam laughed and shook his head, “You know, Dean, you might be right.”

Dean grabs the plate of burgers, not even attempting to mess with Castiel, and threw them into the refrigerator. He looked at Sam seriously and said, “He already craves meat and meat only.”

Sam frowned and said, “Dean.”

“Seriously! He’s not eating his cat food. I came home today, and he wouldn’t leave me alone until I fed him some turkey.”

“Was that before or after you exposed yourself to my client?”

“Sammy, _I_ was the victim in that scenario! It’s your pet who’s the diabolic peeping tom cat.”

Sam laughed at that and then jumped back to what Dean was saying before. “Hey, I noticed Castiel still hasn’t eaten any of the food in his bowl. Maybe he’s used to fancier stuff? I should probably go to the store and grab some wet cat food. Maybe he’ll like that better?”

Dean rolled his eyes, already sick of the cat and his bullshit. The two grab their beers, commenting on cleaning up later, and headed into the living room.

Castiel, on the other hand, was no longer eating and instead sat on the counter fuming. Not only had Dean insinuated that Castiel had purposefully spied on him pleasuring himself, but he had called him a cannibal. Castiel quoted the old, familiar lines, appropriately changing the name, “The thousand injuries of Dean I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge.” And with a flourish Castiel jumped down from the cabinet and commenced in stalking his prey.

The two were watching TV, Dean idly switching channels with the remote. Cas noted that Dean had left his beer on the table and quickly decided how he would reward Dean for his offenses. Castiel jumped on the table and walked over to Dean’s beer and waited for the man to notice him. After a few moments of patient waiting, Dean looked down at his drink and saw Castiel staring at him. Cas waited until Dean made eye contact with him and then never breaking that connection, he slowly pushed Dean’s beer to the edge of the table. Dean frowned, and started reaching for his drink, but Castiel was faster and with a swift move pushed his beer off the table and onto the floor. Cas was already jumping off the table and making his way to the taller bookshelf when Dean exploded, “GODDAMNIT, CAS!”

Cas paused at hearing his name (well, close enough to his name), but quickly moved up the shelves when he heard Dean shifting off the couch. The beer had splattered all over the floor and completely soaked the bottom of his jeans. After picking up the bottle he ran into the kitchen with it and brought back paper towels. Sam had finally stopped laughing and Dean threw the roll at his chest.

“Your piece of shit monster lion, your clean up party,” was all Dean said as he stomped off to his room to change.

Castiel sat at the top of the bookshelf and watched Sam clean his mess, feeling a little bad that the nice one had to deal with his retaliation, but the look on Dean’s face as he had knocked his beer over had been priceless.

Sam was a bit worried that Dean had been pushed too far, so when Dean came back in the room and sat down on the couch, rubbing his eyes, Sam put his hand on his shoulder and apologized.

Dean waved him off, saying it wasn’t his fault.

Sam smiled tightly and assured Dean, “we’ll get him out of here as soon as we get to the new place. I promise.”

Dean sighed and looked over at his brother and nodded.

Sam, continuing his efforts to appease his brother, asked, “ _Creepshow_?”

“Nah, I need to get out for a bit.”

“Roadhouse?”

“Maybe,” Dean replied, drawing out the first syllable. “Ash wanted to meet at the Slaughtered Lamb in a few.”

“Really?” Sam asked with interest. “Didn’t know you two were capable of diversifying your drinking options.”

Dean turned his head and shot his brother a look of annoyance, “Shudup, bitch.”

Sam rolled his eyes and reminded Dean that he was, in fact, a jerk. 

“You wanna come with?” Dean asked, trying to show Sam he really wasn’t mad at him.

“Maybe,” Sam responded earnestly. “I’ll see if Jess wants to go out. We’re s’posed to meet up later.”

Dean nodded, not surprised in the least that Sam had already made plans with his fiancé. He got up and put his boots and coat on, but before he left he yelled after his brother,”Sammy!”

“Yeah?” Sam called out from the couch.

“You remember that movie _Critters_?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied slowly, pretty sure he knew where this was going.

“Well, I was thinking about dressing up as one of those little guys,” Dean popped his head around the corner and with a smile continued, “but you’ve already got their teeth!”

Sam rolled his eyes and replied back, “Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I saw the perfect sweater today, and thought I could dress up like Freddy this year.”

Dean, head still poked around the corner, smiled at his brother, “sounds pretty good to me.”

“Yeah, right? But then I realized you already have his skin.”

Dean frowned, kinda mad that Sam had somehow gotten better at this than him. He flipped him off and then took off to meet Ash, looking forward to not being cooped up with Sam’s bat shit crazy cat for a while.

Sam eventually left the house too, which after the events of the day Castiel found completely acceptable. He’d decided there was no point in leaving at night when he’d be exposed to the elements while trying to sleep god knows where, so he vowed that tomorrow, preferably in the morning, would be the day he’d finally leave Dean and Sam for good. Cas knocked back down _The Inferno_ and finished the work before curling back up on his spot on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now realize that finishing this before Halloween was a sweet, delectable pipe dream. But thanks for keeping up with this spooky trashfest anyways!
> 
> Lit degree making me feel obligated to cite my sources: Cas is quoting "The Cask of Amontillado" from my man Poe.


	4. You Better Get Superstitious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, whatever I'm paying my ghoulish beta, [ Trashland](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Daderain/pseuds/Trashland), it aint enough. This chapter's dedication is split between her and Jensen's sweatpants. God bless you both.

The mid-afternoon light that came through the windows fell on the kitchen table in a bright square. Castiel sat in the middle of it, enjoying the warmth, with Sam not too far away, and more importantly, Sam’s Cobb salad not too far away either. The two sat in companionable silence, Castiel happily munching on the chunks of chicken breast Sam occasionally nudge off his plate, and Sam leisurely browsing a paper and every so often absent-mindedly petting the cat’s head. Castiel tolerated the petting on account of being fed and was grateful he didn’t have to put up with Dean’s belligerent attitude to eat for once. His hopes of leaving early had been thwarted on account of him being asleep both times the two men had come home, but Castiel knew it would only be a matter of time before he got out, and so he refused to continue panicking about it.

 Inevitably their peaceful afternoon was destroyed by Dean barging in, arms full of books and sheets of paper. His grey sweatpants hung low on his hips and Castiel couldn’t help but stare as he walked up to the table. Dean gracelessly dropped his literary mound and plopped down in a chair opposite of Sam.  Castiel wondered who in the universe allowed anybody to walk around in sweats when they clearly weren’t wearing underwear and inwardly groaned. He did not desire being reminded of _that_ particular part of Dean’s body. Even if he was rather beautiful (for a human, Castiel was quick to clarify to no one but himself), he was still Dean, the assbutt who got off on being withholding and mean. Feeling oddly defensive and uncomfortable with his current ruminations, Castiel funneled his emotions into derisively staring at Dean, who was sorting through books and restacking the papers he had carelessly dropped.

“Okay,” Sam said after taking a sip of his iced tea. “I’ll bite. What’s with library duty?”

Dean, not even bothering to look up, kept going through his papers and replied, “Research, young Samuel.”

“Research?”

“This cat’s evil, and I’m gonna prove it to you.”

Sam couldn’t help it, he actually chortled. Looking almost gleeful at his brother’s decent into madness, Sam picked up a DVD and asked, “And you’re gonna do that with _Cat People_?”

Dean, apparently content with his organizing, looked up at his brother and responded, “It’s lore, Sammy. Those ideas gotta come from somewhere.”

Sam smirked and responded, “You do know what _Cat People_ is about, right, Dean?”

Dean had turned his attention to the cat, who was affecting indifference and licking his paw, but side eyed his brother’s patronizing tone and responded, “yes,” elongating the vowel in annoyance.

“So you think Castiel’s a person who’s cursed into turning into a house cat when he gets aroused?”

Dean scrunched up his face, “Well, maybe not that particular legend.”

“Okay,” Sam goaded, “so which one?”

Dean smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.” Dean dramatically cleared his throat, and in his best imitation of Van Helsing began, “Demonic cat possession.”

Sam tried but couldn’t keep himself from laughing.

Dean let a smile slip as well before pulling his facial features back together and restarted, “Okay, seriously though. The tie between cats and demonic possession go back to Ancient Egypt. The Judeo-Christian people who left that area referred them as “demons of the desert.” There’s this guy, Kodosnair…something that has dug up a ton of research on demonic cats. Apparently, at least according to the legends, cats are like demon magnets.”

“Demon magnets?”

“Yeah, well, you get the picture. Anyways, all this stuff kinda makes sense because-“

Sam interrupted, “Oh, my god. Are you actually serious?”

Castiel had been doing his best to appear neutral throughout the exchange. He looked over to Sam as he casually cleaned another paw, and seeing how pained the man looked, decided he had nothing to actually worry about and jumped off the kitchen table, figuring he could eavesdrop from the living room just as well.

His jumping brought Dean’s attention back to his unwelcomed guest. In lieu of a direct response, Dean stated, “You know Helena Markos over there has not just been using the toilet but also flushing.”

“And you’re complaining about not scooping up cat crap because? Come on, Dean. Some cats are just really smart! His previous owners obviously taught him some convenient tricks in addition to kind of spoiling him.”

“Yeah, or what if he’s some kinda hellcat? A sort of demon sent here to punish me?”

“Punish you? Dean, punish you for what?”

“For being really, really ridiculously good-looking,” Dean promptly gave Sam his best blue steel. 

Sam, only slightly amused, rolled his eyes and started to clean up his eating area.

“Sam, wait. Seriously, what about Poe’s, “Black Cat”?”

“Wasn’t the cat the good guy in that one?”

“Eh, maybe. _Cat Eye_?”

“ _Sleepwalkers_.”

“ _Pet Sematary!_ ”

“He’s not a smelly zombie!”

“But he _is_ an asshole.”

Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean in a nearly perfect imitation of Jud Crandall, quoted, “The soil of the cat’s heart is stonier, Samuel.”

Sam sighed heavily and looked at his brother.

“Okay, what about “The Cat from Hell”?”

Sam frowned, “I don’t know that one.”

“Oh, well then, by all means allow me,” Dean wiggled his fingers before shuffling through all the sheets he had printed off, searching for that particular short story. When he found it he began reading long passages out loud and would have kept going, but Sam interrupted him, telling him to shut up.

“Dude, you don’t even know what it does to the guy’s balls.”

Sam pulled one of his best bitch faces and didn’t even bother looking at his brother.

Dean frowned at him and said, “Haven’t even gotten to the good part yet, Sammy.”

“Dean,” Sam said with an air of finality.

“Sam,” Dean replied with mock authority to which Sam rolled his eyes. Dean realized that Sam’s mood in the conversation had moved from jovial to annoyed, so in an effort to lighten the atmosphere, continued, “It’s a pretty awesome story. The cat actually kills the guy by crawling through his esophagus. Then he pops out of the dude’s chest.”

“Riveting literature, Dean. No, I’m sorry, not literature. Irrefutable History.”

“Sammy-”

“No, Dean, don’t _Sammy_ me. I get it, you hate the cat. And I wish I could get him out of here sooner, I do.

“Come on, Sam. I’m just havin’ a little fun. Plus, that cat is friggin’ weird and you know it.”

“Yeah, well, weird or not I like him, he’s not a demon or possessed, he’s not trying to crawl through your esophagus and pop out of your chest. Look, maybe you’re just not a cat person, and that’s fine. Like I said, he’ll be out of here in a few weeks and you’ll never have to worry about feeding him lunchmeat ever again.”

Deflated, Dean just nodded.

Sam felt a twinge of guilt. He got up and walked around the table, clapping his brother on the back. Dean looked up at him, and Sam asked, “We cool?”

Dean looked from his brother to his pile of books and papers. He sighed, pushed himself up and nodded, “Yeah, we’re cool.” Gathering his stuff, Dean turned back to his brother and smiled. “Just remember,” Dean said, dropping his voice in another Jud impression, “sometimes dead is better.”

Sam smiled at his brother, who gave him a pointed look and then left the room. He was disappointed the cat situation was turning out so poorly, but soon enough his brother wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore and he and Jess would have a perfectly well behaved feline to spoil.

Castiel wasn’t sure what to make of the exchange. He knew Sam thought Dean was being ridiculous, but reading Dean proved less easy. He sincerely doubted the man had empirical knowledge that the supernatural existed, but maybe he was one of those humans who were scared anyways: Sam had mentioned Dean’s habit of watching films that had scared him into staying up all night. Castiel realized that he had certainly given Dean enough fodder to suspect something strange. He was normally so careful around them, but there was something about Dean that just got under his skin and pushed his buttons. It made him feel obligated to retaliate and to let on that he was in fact retaliating. Castiel still scolded himself for being stupid though.

The witch sighed and jumped up to a nearby window ledge. He looked out into the men’s backyard and admired the warm foliage of a few maple trees on the other side of the fence. He missed being outside, and he missed his garden and greenhouse. Cas quickly made himself stop thinking about home, however, not wanting to get himself upset all over again in front of Sam and Dean. With another sigh Castiel laid his head down on his paws and cleared his mind, trying not to nurse the hope that one of the boys would decide to head out so he could make a run for the door.

Evening found the three in the kitchen. Sam and Dean had given up on trying to feed Cas cat food, so Dean had thrown a chunk of leftover hamburger into Cas’ bowl while he and Sam fixed themselves dinner. Dean had warmed the bit of hamburger up in the microwave and Castiel was busy navigating the patty, trying to avoid the parts that were still too hot, when suddenly he felt something wet on his back. Startled, he jumped and looked up to see Dean behind him, bottle of water in hand. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow before making eye contact with the cat and saying oops. Cas snatched a large piece of burger and ran off into the living room, thoroughly annoyed with Dean.

Whether he had done that deliberately or through clumsiness Castiel didn’t care. In this form he absolutely hated being wet. Gratuitous visions of extremely annoying revenge pranks played out through Cas’ head. Maybe when he got back to his usual form he’d come back and ensure that a bird take a giant dump on Dean’s car every morning. Forever.

When the brothers came back into the living room Castiel darted past them and went back into the kitchen to finish his dinner, no longer warm but still enjoyable. As he ate he continued plotting revenge pranks on Dean. The man had no idea whom he was messing with.  

=^.^=

Despite that particular incident of casual water bottle terrorism, the next few days found the three finally starting to live in harmony. In the mornings Dean would leave Cas some extra eggs or sausage while the two were gone, and Castiel would read until one of them came home, being sure to wrangle the book back into place to avoid suspicion. Then more often than not Cas would make a run for the door. Usually it would close before he got there, but a few times he had gotten so close. He could smell the autumn air outside, and those times hurt the most. He was surprised the first time Dean caught him; he would have figured that the man would be glad to have him escape, but instead he had quickly ducked down and snatched Cas halfway between his legs.

This time Dean had brought the witch up to his chest and kicked the door close. Cas got a noseful of his aftershave and sweat and motor oil – the usual post-work Dean smell.

“Hey there, buddy,” Dean said to Cas, who was more than a little surprised at being greeted at all by the man, much less with a nickname other than asshole or monster or whoever Helena Markos was.

“I know, look, it pains me to do it, but I can’t let ya break out of here on my time. Sammy would have my ass if you got out. Hell, he’d probably blame me for it, and then I’d have to drive around and find your ass. And you would probably starve to death before I could do it too, ya eat so goddamn much and you’re such a princess about what it is…” Dean trailed off, finally realizing that he had been talking to a cat, and quickly dropped him onto the couch. Castiel looked back up at him with his giant, wide set, blue eyes and blinked.

Dean walked into the kitchen, and when he came back through the living room he tossed Cas a piece of turkey before heading to the bathroom. Castiel was a little suspicious of Dean’s current mood, but after sniffing the turkey decided it was fine and gulped it down.

Not long after Sam came home, wearing damp gym clothes and smelling absolutely horrendous. Castiel was certain he would never get over the way people smelled while he was transformed and wondered how animals managed to live with them for so long. When Dean came out, freshly showered, he went straight to the kitchen and started playing music. Sam took the opportunity to shower as well, and not having anything better to do, Castiel went to the kitchen to see what Dean was up to.

When he walked in and saw Dean he couldn’t help his amusement. The man had an assortment of ingredients clustered on the counter, but was currently ignoring them all and holding a whisk up to his mouth and loudly singing along with a song. Castiel jumped up onto the counter but far enough away from Dean’s cooking area to hopefully not antagonizing him. When Dean saw the giant Maine Coon sitting on the far side of the counter quietly watching him, he shimmied closer to the cat and sang the refrain, “ _have a good time, good time_ ” to him, shaking his head and shoulders and closing his eyes on the oohs.

Castiel was certain that if he had been in his normal form he would have visibly blushed. He had thought Dean’s eyes were hazel, but as he had gotten closer Cas observed that they were much closer to green. The guitar in the song picked back up and Dean spun around and started playing along, switching his whisk from mic to guitar duty. Castiel tilted his head and found Dean’s idiotic behavior enjoyable. The man picked up a large bowl and started mixing his dry ingredients together but never stopped moving his right leg and bobbing his head to the beat. Cas continued watching him, thinking that Dean would probably get along with Gabriel if the two ever met under favorable circumstances.

Suddenly Sam barged into the kitchen in a towel, soaking wet and holding a bottle of shampoo. Before Castiel could even begin to wonder what was going on Dean erupted into laughter as Sam started yelling.

“What the hell, Dean?!”

Dean couldn’t respond, his head thrown down and hands resting on his knees.

“Dean!” Sam yelled again, but his brother only looked up and continued laughing.

Castiel looked between the two men impatiently, wanting to know what was going on.

Sam, already knowing the answer, still asked, “Did you put blue dye in my shampoo?”

Dean looked up, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye and kept laughing.

Castiel squinted at Sam’s hair, noting that it was a bit darker than normal. Then he scanned the rest of Sam, and noticed that some of the areas of his towel had in fact been stained blue.

“Jesus, Dean, this is not that funny!” He slammed the bottle down on the counter.

“Ah, come on, Sammy! It’s just a little kool-aid.”

“You are such a jerk!”

“Hey, I waited until it was almost out! Plus, at least I didn’t use Nair this time!”

Castiel jerked his head towards Dean, and without over analyzing the smidgeon of pride he felt for the man, he figured that there may be some hope for him after all.

Sam breathed angrily through his nose and shook his head. “You are so fucking immature.”

“Ah, come on, Sam, don’t be mad. It’s funny and you know it!”

Cas watched Sam calmly but purposefully walk up this brother. Swiping a piece of wet hair from his eyes, Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother and evenly warned, “Just remember, you started it.”

Later that night Dean walked into the living room and saw Cas at his usual place by the window. The cat didn’t acknowledge him as he walked in, but not long after Dean plopped onto the couch Cas joined him on the opposite end.  The past few days he had taken to watching TV with Dean. It had started off as a way to alleviate boredom, but occasionally Castiel really enjoyed the things Dean would play, though he didn’t care for the melodramatic doctor drama Dean was so fond of. With more interest than he cared to admit, Cas noted that Dean had referred to the star as “sexy” and “a babe” more than once while defending the show to Sam. It seemed as if the two had had the argument before, but Sam didn’t seem content with the results.

Dean had turned the TV onto some grotesque horror film and occasionally took a sip from his beer or grabbed a handful of popcorn from a nearby bowl.

Castiel heard Sam walk into the room but didn’t look up until he heard Sam groan and say, “Why do you do this to yourself?”

 Cas tilted his head as he took Sam in. The man was wearing far too much red, sporting horns, and holding a mini, pointed pitchfork. He also noticed that Sam had managed to get the blue out of his hair and reflected he was lucky Dean hadn’t been able to use him as a resource. He could have given Dean something that would have taken Sam months to get out.

Dean looked up his brother and laughed, “You lose a bet, Sammy?”

“No,” Sam corrected. “Actually, Jess did. Tonight she’s my minion.”

“TMI, dude.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You sure you don’t wanna come out to Lugosi’s for a bit?”

“Nah, gotta get up too early for work tomorrow. But uh, you have fun with all your toity PhD nerds.”

“Yeah, whatever, jerk.”

“Takes one to know one, bitch.”

“Right,” Sam smiled and ruffled his brother’s hair.

“Hey, hey! Mind the locks! These were hand crafted!”

“By what? A blind sea monkey?”

Dean fully turned around on the couch and pointed at his brother, “Watch it, Sasquatch.”

Suddenly looking concerned, Sam frowned and said, “Shit, Dean. Do you think I should have chosen a different costume for this party? I was originally thinking that I could go as The Leprechaun, but then I realized you were the perfect height.”

“Oh, is that so? Well I was thinking of being Frankenstein, but you’re already A FREAKING GIGANTIC MONSTER,” and Dean punctuated his jibe with throwing a fistful of popcorn at his brother.

Sam held out an arm to block the kernels and laughed, “Hey, hey, what did we establish about the hair?”

“God, I wish I had used Nair.”

“Dean, I’m not nine anymore. In fact, I work out more than you, and I’m way taller.”

“Oh, you are not _way_ taller than me!”

“You wanna bet?” Sam chided. “What are you, 5’5?”

“You son of a bitch!” Dean was about ready to launch himself off the back of the couch and try to body splash his brother when he heard Jess’ car honking.

Sam smirked and trotted to the door, eager to get to the party. “Have a goodnight, jerk!” he called out as he turned off the light.

“Watch your back, bitch!” Dean responded.

He settled back down into the couch, and Castiel followed suit. Dean didn’t really mind the cat’s company while watching TV. Ever since they’d gotten on a regular schedule of spoiling him with people food he had found Cas much more agreeable. He was beginning to think he might even miss the little guy once his brother moved out.

As the movie went on Castiel grew more and more involved and simultaneously repulsed. The premise seemed to be that these people were forced into playing their way out of horrifying traps, but they all seemed too difficult and everyone kept on dying in truly awful ways. Castiel, missing the hypocrisy, was baffled that somebody would elect to watch torture for entertainment. Dean would go through periods of quietness, only to disturb the silence by yelling at the TV.

“It’s no fair, man!” Dean cried out, Castiel supposed to nobody but thought perhaps maybe it could be at him. Dean had fallen into the habit of occasionally addressing him as if he could respond.

Cas looked over to Dean who continued, “This is bullshit, there’s no fucking rules! It’s just some maniac torturing people!”

Castiel agreed with him but didn’t know what else to do. During a particularly unsettling part, Castiel got up and scooted closer to Dean. Save for the glow from the television, the house was completely dark, and Castiel, in part because of the movie, had started feeling a bit unnerved. For the first time since being brought here, Cas took comfort in Dean’s presence, and if Dean allowed the cat to get closer during the creepy movie that he couldn’t help but keep watching then so be it.

By the end of the movie Castiel was right up against Dean’s leg, ducking his head during most of the ending and hoping that Dean wasn’t paying too much attention to him. A cat shouldn’t be responding to the program, he knew that, but it was absolutely horrifying and Cas was too scared to leave the room and be by himself. He didn’t even mind that Dean’s hand had found its way onto his back, periodically brushing through his long fur.

After the credits started rolling Dean just sat in silence for a few moments, then he quietly got up, turned off the TV, checked the locks on the door, and went to bed. Castiel, to his own mortification, had kind of been enjoying Dean’s petting, and found himself missing the man’s presence just as much as his body warmth. He glanced over to the bedroom hall and saw that Dean’s door was ajar and a light was still on. Castiel was debating poking his head into the man’s room when a strange noise made him jump. Normally Cas would have laughed at the idea of being scared of the dark, there wasn’t much that could harm him. But in this form, without his magic? Cas shuddered and jumped off the couch, practically running into Dean’s room.

Dean was sitting up in bed, toying around on his phone; the lamp was on and a beer was on his side table. As Castiel pushed past the door it made a creak and Dean’s head shot up. Cas froze as the two made eye contact. He was pretty certain Dean had looked afraid before masking his face with annoyance. Dean stared at the cat for a brief moment longer before he patted the bed. Despite their previously extremely antagonistic relationship and the memory of what Dean was doing in that bed the last time Cas was in here, he was overjoyed at the invitation at not having to spend the night alone in the now thoroughly terrifying living room.

When Castiel was settled at the end of the bed, Dean reached over and turned off the light. He rolled onto his back, kind of grateful the stupid cat had barged into his room again. Those _Saw_ movies, Dean reflected, were completely and totally fucked up. Plus Tara Benchley hadn’t ever been in one. That was proof enough the franchise was sheer crap.

Before going to sleep he turned over once more and poked his head over the covers, looking for Cas. He saw the cat curled up in a ball, tail wrapped around himself and nuzzling into Dean’s blanket. He smiled but then quickly frowned and told the cat if he peed in his bed he’d get turned into a new winter hat. Satisfied, Dean closed his eyes and prayed that Sam never found out he had let the damn thing sleep in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is quoting from [this article](http://www.brooklynpaper.com/stories/37/31/24-demonic-cats-2014-08-01-bk_37_31.html) and "The Cat from Hell" is a delightful short story by the one and only Stephen King.


	5. I'll Be Right Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. I'll spare you the excuses but part of the delay included moving to the other side of the world so please accept this bare bones apology? Chapter unbeta'd because let's face it this shit needed to be published four months ago.

Castiel had woken up much later than his bedmate. He had clumsily sauntered into the kitchen, munched on the sausage Dean had left in his bowl, absentmindedly pawed at the collar that wouldn’t come off, until finally plopping himself onto the back of the couch, waiting for the door to open. Castiel huffed as he laid his head down on his paws, tail hanging limply down the side.

Dean got home a few hours later, and one more failed attempt at running out the door later found Castiel back at his normal brooding spot: the ledge by the living room window. His eyes followed one drop after another as the rain ran down the cool glass, not even bothering to glance up when he heard Dean sit down. Castiel waited for the routine onslaught of late afternoon television to assault the silence, but it never came. Instead his ears pricked forward as the first few notes from a guitar filled the room. Cas slowly turned around and listened to Dean when he added his voice – something rather rough and somewhere between speech and singing. _Sprechgesang_ , Castiel idly reflected. The lyrics, centered around alienation, fit the gloomy afternoon. When Dean sang the refrain, “ _when you’re strange,_ ” his voice would go off tune, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and Castiel realized neither did he.

When Dean looked up he saw the cat’s giant, blue eyes staring at him. He frowned and momentarily sat the guitar down.

“Miss home, don’t ya?” He asked, one eyebrow raised higher than the other. Castiel fought the urge to nod his agreement, and made himself continue staring at Dean instead. Dean pursed his lips and picked his guitar back up, momentarily frowning until he started strumming again. And again, Castiel didn’t know the song Dean was playing but continued enjoying the music. He thought of his instrument room back home, and wondered if Dean would enjoy it as well. Doubtlessly there were instruments that Dean wouldn’t know how to play, but Castiel expected he would have fun messing around with them anyways.

He watched as the man’s hands glided over the instrument, one strumming and the other moving over the frets, and then he started watching the way his brows would furrow when he missed a chord or the way he’d faintly smile after navigating through a particularly complex part. Castiel realized he was enjoying the view as much as the music and quickly turned around and went back to watching the rain, but he couldn’t stop his tail from twitching, couldn’t and didn’t want to stop listening to Dean’s playing.

Dean stopped when Sam, clad in sweaty gym clothes, greeted the two with a hurried hello as he rushed from the door to his room, presumably, Castiel hoped, to shower. As soon as Dean got up and headed into the kitchen Castiel, cooled from sitting by the window for so long, jumped to the couch cushion Dean had been sitting on and enjoyed the warmth his body had left. Feeling more relaxed than he had in days, Castiel closed his eyes and started drifting off to sleep until he felt a body plop down next to him. He popped an eye open in time to see Dean reach over him and grab the remote off the side table. Dean flipped through a few channels before settling an older movie where a woman with a noose around her neck, addressing a child, kept on saying, “it’s all for you!” before jumping off a roof. Castiel had no idea how Dean procured enjoyment from the shows he watched, but, to be fair, he himself had developed an intense interest in the hotdog Dean was shoving into his mouth. Dean looked over at the cat and, rolling his eyes, broke off a piece of the meat and placed it near Castiel’s front paws. Castiel bent his head down to nibble it off the couch when he heard Dean address him for the second time that day, “Enjoying the dog, Cat?”

Cas, a little shocked at being addressed in such a playful manner, looked up and saw Dean smiling, crinkles flaring from the corners. He then noticed a smudge of mustard on the side of Dean’s face, and before he realized what he was doing he sat up on his hind legs and reached over to fondly wipe the smudge away with a paw. At the same moment, Dean jerked his head to the side as he heard his phone ring. Castiel’s paw missed Dean’s face by a few inches and landed on his chest instead, which earned him a reproachful look as Dean answered his phone with a brisk, “Ghostbusters.”

Castiel jumped off the couch, thoroughly annoyed with himself for over his near catastrophe. What if he had actually wiped that mustard off? Nobody would have let that slide, especially not the man who had already been ranting about him being a cat from Hell. Cas continued berating himself as he picked his way up the bookshelf, determined to not let any more slips occur.

Dean got off the phone and Sam came in the room not much longer after that. Running his fingers through his wet hair, Sam asked his brother if he wanted to get dinner at Lugosi’s.

“Can’t,” Dean responded, shooting Sam a giant grin. “Just got off the phone with Bobby. Turns out his old buddy Nicotero needs a little help on a project over in Midian.”

“Really?” Sam asked, eyebrow cocked.

 “Oh, yeah. Gonna try to make it up to there by nightfall which means,” Dean clapped his hands together and rubbed them, “I gotta get my ass on the road five minutes ago.”

“That, uh, sounds like a real barn burner,” Sam replied, eyebrows raised.

Dean smiled, getting up and patting his brother’s shoulder in lieu of response.

Castiel watched Sam follow Dean into his room and waited a few moments before climbing down and going to relieve himself in the bathroom. He exited the same time as Sam and Dean and caught the tail end of their conversation. 

“Should be back in a few days, Sammy.” Dean said to his brother, the two walking out of his bedroom and into the living room. Dean turned, hoisting his duffle bag further up onto his shoulder. “Probably be back in time for Halloween,” he said with a smile.

Sam nodded and stepped in to give his brother a hug.

Dean wrapped one arm around him briefly before calling out, “Okay, okay. Enough with the chick flick crap. Besides, it’s not like everyday isn’t already some kinda circusy-Halloween for us, you giant, bearded lady. ”

Sam, with an exasperated look, shook his head, “One time, I tried to grow a beard _one time._ And it looked good!”

“Hey, you know what, Sammy?” Dean responded, dismissing the old topic and moving on to his crowning moment. “Last night I thought I had finally figured out what I wanted to be for Halloween.”

Sam rolled his eyes and looked at Dean expectantly.

“Was gonna be an Egyptian Soul Sucker,” and Dean paused, triumphant smirk already prominent,” but turns out you already suck ass!”

Sam actually chuckled and commended his brother for finally telling a good one.

Dean started walking to the door before he turned around and informed Sam that there were some leftovers in the fridge and a tupperware full of some new cat food recipe he had tried making for the cat. Castiel jumped up to the back of the couch and looked over at the man, head titled. Dean stared back briefly before pointing at him and instructing, “don’t be an asshole.”

Castiel squinted at Dean’s back as the door closed and then looked up to Sam, whose face was drawn in to a slight frown. It softened, however, after he pulled out his phone and started texting somebody. Jessica, Cas presumed. Sam left a few hours later, and Castiel settled onto the couch, mentally preparing himself for the loneliest night of this frustrating journey yet. A few restless hours later he got up to use the restroom, and on the return trip back he noticed Dean’s door was slightly ajar. Remembering how comfortable Dean’s mattress had been, Castiel took the opportunity to sleep in there instead. Not only was the bed softer, Cas reasoned, but the room smelled better too. Ceremoniously tucking his tail around his body, Castiel fell asleep.

=^.^=

The day after Dean’s departure had nearly killed Castiel with boredom. Prior to this day he would have assured anybody that, despite all the possibilities his life had made available to him, he had still had occasion to meet with that suffocating sensation of ennui. However, after having positively nothing to do all day besides trading bouts of either watching Sam pack or watching the grass grow from his window, Castiel realized his former self had been, as Gabriel would have put it, full of shit. Castiel did not find it an exaggeration to describe his day as literal torture.

That night he had waited for Sam to go to bed before sneaking off into Dean’s room. Castiel reasoned with himself that he wasn’t keeping this emerging nightly habit clandestine for any other reason than presuming that Sam would kick Cas out of Dean’s room on account of the assumed understanding that Dean wouldn’t want him there. However, since Dean had already allowed it before, the witch figured he had permission enough to continue the trend. He also dismissed a nagging feeling that perhaps he would be embarrassed if Sam had found him entering Dean’s room to sleep. Castiel was only taking advantage of the very comfortable mattress Dean’s room provided, nothing more.

After Cas had found the perfect spot and wrapped his tail around himself, he started comparing this day to all the others he had experienced while staying with these two men. It had started off terribly, with Sam having forgotten to feed him for the better part of the morning, and then completely ignoring him while simultaneously making it impossible for him to even read due to his constant walking in and out of the living room, piling boxes every which way. Dean, Castiel thought, had never forgotten to feed him, even in the beginning when he was being unbearably rude and standoffish. And, when Dean wasn’t being an idiot or causing bodily harm to his precious tail, the man had provided company that Castiel, generous as it may be, would have referred to as slightly enjoyable. He nestled his head further into the mattress and reflected that even when Dean was being insufferable there was still an element of charm, including the multiple times food or drink had come out of his mouth while laughing. And Castiel, grateful as he was for the chicken and rice Dean had set aside for him, missed him cooking in the kitchen, dancing around if he was in a particularly good mood and throwing little pieces near Cas as he progressed through the recipe.  

Without really considering why, the witch took a deep breath and held it in, enjoying the scent around him. Memory and scent have an unbreakable bond with each other and since the sheets still smelled like Dean, (thankfully, Castiel noted, post-shower Dean and not post-work Dean) he proceeded with his current train of thought. However, his thoughts drifted from the man’s actions to his appearance. Castiel’s mind almost returned to the pornography debacle, but he swiftly shifted his contemplations towards less incriminating reflections, like the slight septum deviation, the curve of his lips, his many freckles, his broad shoulders, the soft roll of stomach that became more pronounced when he sat down, those grey sweatpants he always wore – and Castiel stopped himself right there and took note of the soft, glowing warmth that had started in his stomach as he thought about Dean and with a jolt realized that he, Castiel Novak, was unrelentingly, undeniably, and most of all inconveniently enamored with Dean. Enamored with a man, a _human_ , who he’d only known for a few weeks, whose last name he didn’t even know, and who, understandable due to circumstances, thought he was a cat.

And for once in a very, very long time, Castiel could think of one word and one word only: _fuck_.

=^,^=

The next day provided Castiel with a face for the name Jessica, as she had come over early in the morning and had helped Sam finish packing. Of course this was after taking her time to coo over Castiel, informing Sam that he was even cuter in real life. Castiel bore through the petting as best he could before scampering away from the two and hiding in the kitchen.

After lazily lapping up some water Castiel wandered back out into the living room with a vague intention of going to use the restroom when he saw what he'd been waiting for all along: an escape. Sam was nowhere to be seen and Jessica was standing in the doorway, readjusting a large box on her hip with the door wide open.

Castiel could almost feel the liberty wafting in with the cold breeze. This was his chance, his first solid chance at escaping and Castiel took a few steps towards the door and stopped, overcome with, if not sadness, at very least a strange hesitation. As he looked down at his feet he realized that if he left now he wouldn't be able to say goodbye to Dean. It didn't feel right, he felt as though he owed the man some sort of ...something - a salutation, an acknowledgment of hospitality, gratitude for not killing him when he purposefully knocked over his beer... Castiel shook his head. This is insane, he thought. He couldn't honestly be contemplating staying here as a pet feline.

And then another thought struck him: it didn't have to be a permanent goodbye. Castiel's head jerked up with realization. He could come back. Simple as that. He would get home, get changed, get revenge, then come back here, to whatever town this was, and somehow... make himself known to Dean. He instantly started imagining different scenarios: a low lit bar, an offered drink, a coy introduction; a brightly lit grocery store, a strategically dropped wallet, a good Samaritan smile; or perhaps he'd see Dean on a windy day walking down the sidewalk, Cas would use a smidgeon of magic just to trip Dean, he'd fall into his arms, they'd both laugh at the awkward moment until falling silent, getting too caught up in the other's eyes until their lips slowly came together...

Castiel violently shook his head, freeing himself from his ludicrous fantasies, acknowledged that he may in fact being going insane from lack of stimulation compounded with the fuzzy, rollercoaster feeling that had nuzzled itself deep inside his chest, and set off to the doorway. Jessica had already left her post; however, the door was still open and just as she was walking back in Castiel darted out, zipping right past her as she shouted out his name. He could hear her following him, alternating between demanding and pleading for him to come back, so he quickly rounded the corner, cut across the front yard, and ran into the neighbor's bushes. Jessica was still pursuing him, but Castiel had the advantage of slowly and quietly edging around the neighbor's house, hidden by the shrubbery.

Sam came out to stand by her, and Castiel waited and watched as the two looked around the yard. Jessica was pointing in Cas' direction and the two walked closer to his location, patiently calling out his name.  Castiel slipped around the corner of the house, easily climbed over the fence, and started cutting across neighbor's yard in the same fashion, keeping a wary eye out for dogs and other predators. Once he got to the last house he hopped out onto the sidewalk and looked around, not quite sure if he still remembered the way back to downtown. Figuring moving was better than nothing at all, Cas cut up to the corner and started walking along the busier of the two streets. He didn't get very far, however, when a pair of very familiar, very ridiculous multi colored sneakers popped into view accompanied by a very familiar, very relieving, "Hey there, baby bro."

=^.^=

Castiel swore as he cut off another driver, nearly missing his exit to Lawrence. He had solidified his plan as well as possible before sliding into his old Lincoln Continental, but there were too many factors outside his realm of control. So after much deliberating with his sister, Cas had carefully selected a looser pair of dark grey skinny jeans, a black v-neck and a pair of docs from his closet. He carefully groomed his hair into what his mother affectionately referred to as a bird's nest before saying fuck it and started off towards Dean

After his great escape Gabriel had easily gotten Castiel's collar off and transported them back to their house. Castiel had nearly cried he was so glad to be back in the right place and in the right shape. After a lengthy yelling match, three family meetings, and two bloody lips later, Castiel had made a tenuous peace with Michael and Lucifer, who had sworn up and down that they had had every intention of bringing Cas back the next day, but therein lied the problem: they couldn't find him. Eventually confessing to their family what they had done, the Novaks had put a tracking spell on Castiel immediately, but the collar must have been too strong because it was as if he had disappeared. Gabriel had been the one watching the map when suddenly the crystal stood up and slid over to a street on Lawrence, alerting them to Castiel's whereabouts.

Turning onto a street that led downtown, Castiel contemplated his options. Fantasizing about picking Dean up at a bar or a grocery store was one thing, but actually driving down there and trying to do it? That was infinitely different and so uncharacteristically outside of how Castiel normally operated. He had spent a few days at home before bringing up his plan to Anna and Gabriel, both oh whom, after picking their jaws off the floor, started talking and advising at once, Gabriel insisting that he show up at their door, waving his hand as he said with some sort of flimsy excuse, and just go for it, tongue first. Anna, a bit more grounded in reality, had seconded Castiel's idea of some contrived way of accidentally meeting him. Weary of the unsupernatural, it was implicitly understood that the truth was absolutely out of the question. When or if it came time for Castiel to tell Dean, it would sort itself out, and would, by necessity, have to happen much later in the relationship.

Castiel was about turn down the street that led to his hotel when he changed his mind and pulled into a small grocery store instead, deciding that if he was going to stay in a hotel beer and junk food were a must. As Cas walked into the store his eyes ran over the few flyers tacked up to a board near the entrance way before stopping dead in his tracks. The others had been local advertisements, various sales or community events, but right in the middle there was a glossy sheet with his likeness pictured beneath large, bolded words: Missing Cat.

Castiel's stomach flipped at the same moment his breath hitched. It was a large Maine Coon with large, blue eyes - it had to be him, Cas thought. His eyes scanned down to the text underneath, bullet points outlining physical descriptions, the collar, and the very last one: "Kind of an asshole." Castiel let out a soft, surprised laugh followed by a sharp intake of air when he read the last lines of the text, "If found, please contact Dean Winchester" and then listed his number and email. Castiel reached out a tentative few fingers and softly touched the name before bringing them back up to his lips, a routine gesture he made when confronted with a realization. Castiel knew what he was about to do, and knew that what he was about to do was incredibly stupid, but he also knew he was going to do it anyway.

Gingerly Castiel grabbed his phone from his back pocket and put in Dean's number. He hit call and took a deep breath. The phone rang three times before a familiar voice answered with a curious hello.

Castiel ran his hands through hair, swallowed, and with a much steadier voice than he thought himself capable of, answered, "Hello, Dean."

There was a pause and then a stuttered, "Hello?"

"I believe, I uh, I believe I have your cat."

Excitedly, Dean returned, "You serious? Castiel?"

"Yes," Cas responded automatically and waited a beat before realizing Dean was asking about the cat and not addressing him. "He's uhm…" Castiel continued, feeling a little awkward at having to describe himself.

"-An asshole?" Dean supplied.

Castiel chuckled, "perhaps slightly misunderstood." He felt his shoulders relax and he continued, "He has blue eyes-"

"Too big and too far apart?" Dean interrupted.

Castiel frowned, "They seem fairly proportioned and appropriately distanced to me."

He heard Dean laugh and say, "Might not be the right guy then."

Castiel knitted his brows together and tried to assure Dean he was the right cat before Dean interrupted him again and said, "Relax, man. Just teasin'."

Castiel smiled and asked Dean where he could meet him to hand off the (arguably nonexistent) feline, and they agreed to meet up at Dean's house. After they hung up Cas rubbed his hands up and down his thighs while staring off at nothing. Part of him couldn’t believe he was doing this, the other felt as though he were floating, swept up in a current, unable to change course but strangely enough not disturbed.

Castiel had been through a barrage of different emotions on the ride to Dean's, from horror at his supreme stupidity right down overwhelming anticipation. However when he had pulled into Dean's driveway and made to grab his keys from the ignition he had frozen, his hands refusing to let go of the wheel. His whole impulsive plan had finally hit him, and he was scared. As he was contemplating prying a hand off the wheel and throwing his car into reverse, Castiel jumped at a light knock on the window. It was, of course, Dean. Castiel swallowed, turned off the engine, and slowly got out of his car.

He looked at Dean and instantly felt warmed despite the chilly air. It was his Dean alright, from the hazel eyes that were almost green to the back of his jacket's collar that was always stupidly popped up - the same man who had made him special cat food and had never learned how to chew with his mouth closed. When Castiel finally met Dean's eyes and Dean smiled Castiel knew right then that for better or worse he wanted Dean, all of Dean, beer stained shirt and all.

As for Dean, he had to stifle a laugh after he knocked on the window and saw the man jump but immediately had to bite back a low whistle when he really saw his face. He was gorgeous, messy hair, striking eyes, beautiful lips. As soon as he got his terrible cat back Dean vowed to feel out the situation and hopefully end this encounter with a chance at another.

 

They both looked at each other for a few moments longer before Dean cleared his throat and took a step back. Castiel blinked a few times before clearing his throat and looking down.

"Dean, I uh... found your cat."

"Yeah?" Dean answered with a frown, getting the feeling that he was about to be let down, figuring the little, giant bastard had escaped again.

Castiel looked up and briefly wondered where exactly all his bravado had gone. "It's uh... It's me. I'm your cat"

"What?"

"I'm your cat."

"Come again?"

Castiel rolled his eyes; he had almost forgotten how much Dean could frustrate him. "It's me. I'm your damn cat. Castiel," he said, gesturing up and down at himself.

Dean scoffed and was about to tell the guy to fuck off when he examined Castiel’s annoyed expression, with his eyes that were just so blue and big and maybe, just a smidgeon, too far apart.

"Son of a bitch."

"Huh?"

"How?" Dean demanded, sounding pretty angry. Castiel had imagined several initial reactions but anger had not been one of them.

"Well, epic narrative tragically but necessarily cut short: I'm a witch."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean threw his hands up and started pacing up and down. "I hate witches!"

"You hate witches?" Castiel responded back, surprised and angry. "On what grounds could you possibly hate witches?" he demanded.

“Because!” Dean practically yelled, exasperated. “They’re always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere! It’s creepy! No,” he continued, jabbing a finger up in the air, “it’s downright unsanitary!”

Insulted and bewildered with Dean’s ludicrous prejudices, and wanting to simultaneously shut him up, strangle him, and one up him all at the same time, Castiel shot back, “Well maybe not all bodily fluids are such a bad thing!"

Dean's head snapped back to look at Cas who was glaring right back at him. Something about his demeanor challenged Dean, and without forethought he marched the two steps over to Castiel whose eyes widened right before closing as Dean cupped his face with both hands and rather forcefully brought their lips together. Despite the emotional buildup to their first kiss it ended rather sweetly, with Dean softly and briefly kissing Castiel a second time before taking a step back.

"You're really a witch?"

Castiel nodded slowly, transfixed and barely registering the two fingers he had brought to his lips.

"You really my cat?" He asked gently.

He nodded again.

Castiel felt his own questions fade away as he started feeling overcome with the need to prove himself. "You are a very frustrating man," he began, to which Dean chuckled. "I knocked over your beer after you called me a cannibal. Then you made me food because I found cat “food” atrocious. You like singing while you cook, you spill beer and food and god only knows whatever else out of your mouth while watching TV, you are very close to the man that just moved out and yet you two constantly insult each other with some inane joke. You come home from work smelling absolutely appalling, your room is surprisingly tidy, and when you laugh it's usually with your whole body and your eyes crinkle at the corners - and it’s usually at your own antics. You were determined to prove I was some sort of Hell cat, yet you went out of your way to care for me though you had no reason to. You are the most vexing, kind, and alluring person I have ever met."

"Shit, Cas," and then after a beat, "Oh, my god, you saw me," and then Dean cut himself off and made a vague gesture with his hand.

Castiel immediately knew what Dean was talking about and felt his cheeks start to heat up. "I can assure you that was accidental."

"Sure it was, you perverted old tom cat."

Castiel rolled his eyes and then looked at Dean, trying to feel out the situation.

"So, why, Cas? Why were you bed and breakfasting as a freaking cat in some shitty neighborhood in Kansas?"

"The collar," Castiel responded, unconsciously touching his neck. "My brothers thought it would be funny to bind my powers while transfigured and ship me out of town. We actually don't live that far away, and they said they had every intention of finding me the next day, after of course, they felt that I would have learned  my lesson because, you see, I may have made them go temporarily hairless for a few days but that hardly warranted their retaliation." Castiel took a deep breath, "And I understand now that I am beginning to ramble, and I am ordinarily much more concise but this is quite out of my comfort zone, so yes, to conclude, I  am a witch, my collar, interwoven with iron, bound my magic, so I was left to fend for myself in my feline form and thus was left with the only solution of finding somebody to sucker into nourishing me for a bit, and try as I might I couldn't remove the collar, escape from your house, or, apparently, make my presence known to my family to be rescued... Yes," Castiel nodded and looked up at Dean, "that about sums the excursion up."

First Dean whistled, and then he laughed. He laughed much harder than Castiel felt appropriate before clapping a hand on Cas' shoulder and smiling brightly at him. "It wouldn't have worked," Dean supplied.

It took Castiel a moment before he could focus on the words and not Dean's smile. "Sorry?" he asked.

"All of it, getting your collar off, having your family use a locator spell on you - none of it would have worked - I mean in the house."

Castiel pursed his lips together before tilting his head in confusion. "What do you mean, Dean?"

"The house, it's warded to all get out. No way your magic would have worked inside. It's a hunter house. I'm a hunter."

"A hunter?" Castiel asked back, flatly.

Dean smiled nervously after rubbing his neck. "Yeah uhm, you know...

"Jesus." Castiel interjected, a hint of anger in his voice.

"Hey, look, Cas. It doesn't have to change anything. Not all hunters are assholes, and you're clearly not some evil son of a bitch-"

Castiel cocked an eyebrow, "And how would you know that?"

Dean smiled brightly, "intuition!"

Cas rolled his eyes again but immediately looked down when he felt Dean take one of his cold hands into his own.

"I can't believe it," Cas mused out loud, "sleeping with the enemy this whole time and I never knew..."

"Hey, how do you think I feel? I invited the enemy in. Fuck, I even made him burgers."

"They were very good burgers."

"Yeah?"

"They made me very happy." Castiel felt his lips quirk into a smile as he took a step closer to Dean. Dean took Cas' second hand and gave them both a squeeze.

"Maybe we should start over?"

Castiel hummed at that but then looked Dean in the eyes and shook his head. "I don't really think that's necessary."

He saw Dean lean his head in closer and felt his eyes close on their own as he followed suit. A whispered me neither was the last thing Castiel heard before feeling Dean's full lips on his own. The two stood there in the autumnal cold, wrapped around each other as some of the last leaves were pushed off their trees by the wind. After a few moments Dean pulled away.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean asked, voice seductively low.

“Yes, Dean?” Cas responded, butterflies in his stomach.

“What’s with the pimp ride?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for the comments and kudos - they meant way more to me than I ever thought they would. This story brought to you by the Halloweeen prompt Daderain kindly gifted me when I was whining about wanting a short Halloween idea. Was not nearly as short as I thought it was gonna be.  
> Original prompt, more or less, "Cas gets turned into a cat and lives with Dean, runs away, then returns after he sees the missing cat signs." But the way she phrased it made it seem way cuter and less ridiculous.


	6. Time Stamp: All Work and No Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Welllll_ , I started writing a sequel a few months ago and then gave up. I sincerely doubt that I'll ever finish it, but my better half [Trashland](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Daderain/pseuds/Trashland)  
> suggested I post some of what I wrote as a time stamp so here you go. If I do ever finish the sequel I'll probably delete this time stamp, but it'll pop back up in the next installment fo sho. 
> 
> Enjoy some domestic game night antagonistic halloween fluff?
> 
> Set about one month later.

“She was lovely and terrible all at once. A strange light shone in her eyes as she chanted, “Ia! Ia! Shub Niggurath! The Goat with a Thousand Young!” Castiel laughed and took another swig of his beer before presenting the witch token to Dean. “This could quite possibly be construed as offensive, Dean,” Cas said with a smile.

The offending item in hand was a monster token for Arkham Horror. The front was a misty green featuring the backside of a topless witch, stretching a fishnet shawl between her two hands. The inscription Cas had read was on the back, along with the information needed for fighting her.

Dean shook his head but couldn’t stop the huge grin on his face.

He leaned in closer and pointed to her back, “She’s got a pretty sweet tramp stamp too.”

“Ugh, god, now that is offensive.”

Not quite getting the joke, Charlie and Ash chuckled a little, but Castiel and Dean hardly noticed. The just kept smiling at each other until Charlie banged her hand on the table and prodded, “Couples, boo, hiss!”

Dean immediately looked back at her and with a pointed finger replied, “I know exactly where that’s from, Charlene.”

“No you don’t,” she shot back with a smile. “Not unless you wanna out yourself too you don’t.”

“What? What is it from?” asked Ash. “Some kinda Joss Whedon shit?”

“Yes,” replied Dean, loud and quickly, but Ash’s attention was on Castiel who was slowly shaking his head.

“Noooo,” he said slowly. “I don’t believe it was that… oh, yes, it’s from-“ but Dean was already covering his mouth and laughing.

Cas struggled against his grip, and Charlie started throwing popcorn at them both while shouting, “Don’t you dare, Castiel!”

Dean’s laughter quickly turned into a yelp as he jerked his hand back.

“Did you just lick me?” he shouted.

Castiel just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“What did I tell you about bodily fluids?!”

“That sharing is caring?”

“But not at the dinner table!”

Charlie and Ash both vocalized their disgust before Charlie started banging on the table again in an attempt to bring some order back to the game. The friends scooted their chairs closer, and Charlie pushed a handful of red hair behind her ear. She had yet to take off the purple hoodie situated over her Silver Shamrock shirt, but Castiel had still noticed the green witch’s face underneath the lettering. Normally he would have rolled his eyes, but these were Dean’s friends, and he was trying to get along with them.

Dean hardly used the dinner table for anything but games since Sam had moved out.  The first few weeks had been rough, but lately Castiel had been staying over, and it had helped Dean ease into the transition of living on his own. He and Cas had been taking things slow, partly due to Castiel’s inexperience but the nature of their relationship also factored in. Neither of them had dated anybody “from the other side” as they had put it, and so both had been cautious with the first few steps.

Lately, however, some of the hesitations had started fading away: Dean had introduced Castiel to his friends, and Castiel had taken to spending more and more time at the part time mechanic, part time hunter’s home. Getting to know and trust Castiel had been turning out to be a great deal easier than Dean expected. His personality was still the same: an affected demeanor of assholery, a penchant for lazing about, and a high regard for pleasurable things. Still, it had been nice to get to know Castiel through language; the man was quick witted and fascinating, possessed the right amount of dickishness, affectionate when he thought no one was looking, and, though Dean had only been given glimpses of his long history, kind of intimidating.

But all of that power and dignity faded into the background as Castiel’s cheeks puffed out around a giant handful of popcorn and then stole a sip of Dean’s beer.

“Hey, hey, hands off, fuzz ball.”

Castiel sent him a quick glare before back peddling and giving Dean a pleading look.

“But the fridge is so far away, Dean,” he said, drawling out the vowels in Dean’s name.

“Aww, baby,” came his response while patting Cas on the knee. “I think that somehow, someway, you’ll pull through.”

Castiel wrinkled his nose and pushed up and out of his chair with a sigh.

“Hey, Cas,” Ash yelled over his shoulder, flipping the longer strands of his mullet as he turned his head. “Could you grab me one too?”

Castiel let out a playful ugh and then an even louder one when Charlie and Dean chimed in their requests as well. When Castiel plopped back down he passed out beers to Charlie and Ash but only gave Dean a pointed look.

“Ah, Cas,” Dean said, clutching at his heart as if it were breaking in two, “you’re as cold as ice.”

“Yes, well,” Cas said, feigning indifference, “you’ll survive.”

Dean smirked as he got up, ruffling Castiel’s hair.

“What phase were we at?” Charlie asked, squinting her eyes down at the massive board.

“Monster,” Ash replied. “And Dean’s about to get fucked in the ass. No pun intended, dude.”

Castiel laughed and Dean flipped his friend off. Ashcan Pete, his character, had been doing terribly, and it looked as though things were about to get much, much worse. He had caught Castiel influencing the dice in order to rid him of the obnoxious curse that had been placed on his character, but Dean shook his head no. His pride wouldn’t let his witch boyfriend cheat for him. So, in accordance with the laws of Arkham Horror, Dean was having a miserable time.

By the end of the game, a solid four hours later, Dean’s character had lost all of his possessions and was currently stuck in an asylum, and Dean’s mood wasn’t much better than what Ashcan’s would have been. On the other hand, Castiel, Ash, and Charlie had all had a great time, each having successfully closed gates and ganked monsters. Dean took some solace in watching Cas bond with his friends, even if it was mostly over Dean’s misery.

Still, he was grateful when the game finally ended and his friends had headed back home.

 

Dean was already propped up in bed, sheets turned down and waiting, when Castiel finished brushing his teeth. He was wearing a pair of sky blue boxer briefs and an old, soft t-shirt, one leg laid out flat and the other bent up. Castiel was wearing a pair of white boxers and one of Dean’s old band shirts, still unused to sleeping in clothes and generally relying on Dean’s dresser for garments. With a flick of his wrist Castiel flipped the switch on the other side of the room and slowly started crawling towards Dean from the end of the bed.

“Show off,” Dean teased.

“Eya Eya Shrug Nabootha,” Cas chanted with a laugh, still a little buzzed from his beers.

“It’s Ia Ia Shub Nigurtha, you idiot”

“Whatever,” Cas replied, pressing a kiss onto the side of Dean’s knee.

Dean smiled and reached for Cas, running his fingers through the man’s soft, dark hair. Castiel quietly hummed as he slowly continued on his path up and over Dean, pausing to press kisses on his thighs, hips, and one over Dean’s heart. Dean couldn’t help wanting to cover his stomach while Castiel pressed his lips to it as well, despite Cas’ insistence that it was one of his favorite features, but when they were finally face to face and Castiel kissed him slowly, Dean forgot all about his insecurities and wrapped his arms around the witch. Castiel let the lower half of his body rest on Dean, and Dean hooked a leg around him as they deepened their kiss. Dean had started sucking on Cas’ plush, lower lip when Castiel ruined the moment by jerking his head back and laughing.

Dean frowned at him but before he could ask Castiel kissed him chastely on the lips.

“Apologies,” Cas whispered. “It’s just that damn witch card.”

Dean smiled and kissed Cas on the forehead before shifting them both so they were laying on their sides. Dean could just make out Castiel’s features and ran a finger down his nose. Castiel smiled and playfully nipped at it while Dean brought it down over his lips.

“I like you being here,” he said, voice more of a murmur than anything else.

“I like being here too,” Cas replied, low voice as equally quiet. “We should have game nights more often.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked.

“It’s quite amusing to watch you suffer.”

“Ha!” Dean scoffed. “That why you were gonna cheat for me?”

“Well,” Castiel drawled, “It was honestly more of a charity case than anything. You were looking so pathetic.”

Dean poked Castiel in the stomach. “Watch it, or Ashcan Pete’s gonna start withholding burger nights.”

Castiel gasped in mock consternation, “Whatever will Amanda Sharpe do?! How will she survive?!”

“Guess she’ll just have to rustle up some grub the old fashioned way: the trashcans down by the river docks.”

“Ugh,” Cas responded. “She’d rather die. Besides, there’s always some unfortunate prey lying around, unable to resist her charms.”

“Yeah, he’d have to be a real sucker,” Dean responded, warm smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Cas responded softly, conversation starting to return to its gentler origins. “He probably is.”

Dean hummed in response and nestled closer to Castiel. They kissed for a few more moments before Cas turned over onto his other side and pressed himself against Dean’s back. Dean kissed the back of his head and snuck an arm around his tummy, content to listen to Castiel’s breathing growing slower and softer as he fell asleep.

 


End file.
